New life and new civilizations
by maitai4985
Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the Enterprise. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no one expects what they find...
1. Chapter 1

Title: New life and new civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

**Prologue**

On second thought, this might not have been his best idea. Jim Kirk's body slammed into the wall. Hard. His chest was heaving, sucking air into his burning lungs. Mud and oil were smeared over his gold command shirt; he could feel blood trickling from his forehead and several bruises on his ribs. Holding his phaser at the ready Kirk slipped his head around the corner, only to be slammed into the wall, again, by the body of his First.

"What the _hell_ is that thing?" Jim hissed, trying to see further down the dark tunnel.

"Unknown, Captain, although logic suggests-"

"Yes, yes, logic Spock, you can tell me all about it later; come on." Slowly the pair wound their way through the tunnels; Jim flinched at every hiss from the pipes and the flash of every light. The maze of pipes and cables cast everything in half shadows deep beneath the ground _'This is insane'_, Jim thought to himself, almost laughing despite the circumstances, _'this is like end very horror vid I've ever seen'_. He moved to tell Spock as much, try to inject a little brevity into the situation, when the shit hit the fan.

It fell from the ceiling, landing behind Jim with a dull thud, a hammer-like fist slammed into his side, sending him sprawling to the floor. Spock dove into action, fists flying, trying to drive It away from the Captain. As hard and as fast as Spock hit, It was faster, deflecting every strike until the perfect time, knocking Spock back with a heavy boot to the chest. With a low, primal growl It turned back to the Captain, picking him up in a vice-like grip; the cold steel of his gauntlet pressed against the Kirk's throat.

"Spock!" He shouted, kicking and clawing at the iron grip holding him. It held its free arm to Kirk's neck, driving a hypodermic in deep; Kirk stopped moving.

"Captain!" Spock shouted, diving at the pair, but it was too late. In a swirl of cloth and a flash of blue light they were gone.

**Two Weeks Earlier…**

In the six months since he had officially taken command of the _Enterprise_ Jim Kirk liked to think that things were going pretty well. Sure Starfleet had yet to send them on any _real_ missions, but hey, you had to walk before you could run and if the Admiralty thought that having them run diplomatic protocols and cargo runs was good enough, then it was good enough for him. Kirk had no delusions about his position, he knew many admirals were not happy with this arrangement, but he had a…fishy suspicion that at least one of them had lobbied hard for his appointment, and he'd be damned before he disappointed that man. Still, ferrying diplomats and back and forth across the Federation was _boring_ and damn it all if he wasn't getting a bit trigger happy; he couldn't wait to get his hands on a Neutral Zone patrol or two.

Roused from his early morning musings by the gentle, but still somehow irritating, tones of his alarm, Jim slowly stretched himself awake. Scowling, he stepped into the sonic shower (nothing could ever replace a real shower with real water) before putting on a uniform he was _fairly_ certain was clean before grabbing a latte (sweet coffee goodness) and making his way to the bridge for the beginning of alpha shift.

"Captain on the bridge," Spock said as he stepped off the turbolift, "good morning Captain" he continued, somewhat quieter.

"Morning, Mr. Spock." Jim said brightly, clapping his first officer on the shoulder and taking a sip of his coffee. "Anything to report from gamma shift?" Jim settled into his chair, privately reveling in the soft fabric.

"Nothing of consequence Captain, Lieutenant Robinson merely reported a class three comet upon my arrival." Kirk considered his first officer for a minute; in the six months since the _Enterprise_ had left on its first mission after the _Nerada_ disaster, he and Spock had not exactly grown close, but they at least had a solid working relationship that was slowly working its way to friendship. Still, he liked to throw a wrench in Spock's life every once in a while.

"A class three comet, how exciting." Kirk drolled, picking up the PADD in his armrest and scanning the contents; most of the messages were bland and uninteresting status reports from the various departments in the ship, he'd read those later, a few others were Starfleet-wide briefs, status updates, and promotions lists. Not surprisingly, the _Enterprise_ was not mentioned in any of these dispatches; the comet had been the most interesting event on their trip from Starbase Thirty-six to the new colony on Telleria IX to deliver heavy agricultural equipment.

Draining the last of his coffee he waved the yeoman over, trading her his empty cup for a stack of suspicious looking PADDs. One of the first things Kirk had learned upon taking command of the _Enterprise_ was that there was very little snap decision making and shouting of orders to save the ship and crew in a captain's life. In reality, most of Jim's time as a captain was spent doing the one thing he hated most: paperwork. Scowling at the stack, he slowly began to scroll through them.

"Captain," Uhura looked up from her station, a look of slight confusion on her face. "We're receiving a priority signal from Starfleet Command." Jim turned to his communications specialist. In the six months since they had been in space their relationship had thawed considerably, they weren't friends yet, but they worked well together.

"Who is it?" Kirk replied, dozens of scenarios flipping through his head; this might be a chance to get those damned combines off his ship.

"Admiral Pike, sir." Uhura said. Everyone on the bridge seemed to perk up at this; subconsciously straightening their postures and stations, Admiral Pike seemed to be the only member of Starfleet Command to believe in the _Enterprise_ and her crew. Tucking the PADDs into a case on his chair, Kirk straightened his shirt and turned to face his first officer.

"I'll take it in the ready room lieutenant, Mr. Spock, you have the con." Kirk stood and strode purposefully to his ready room. Sitting behind his desk, Kirk turned the small viewer towards him. Taking one last second to double check his shirt, he turned it on. "Admiral Pike," he said, not bothering to hide his bright smile from his mentor, "what can I do for you?"

"Jim, how's the old lady?" Pike's face was warm and bright; his hair had gone slightly grayer and a few more lines crossed his face. It had taken months, but it seemed like his time in Nero's care was finally washing away.

"She's phenomenal sir, though Scotty's still playing with her engines." He said with a grin.

"I feel sorry for the next tech that tries to touch that ship." Pike said, shaking his head. He let out a slow sigh before fixing Kirk with a serious gaze. "Jim, I know these past few months haven't been quite what you expected," Kirk opened his mouth to retort, Pike silenced him with a wave of his hand, "don't deny it Jim. Hell, I'm bored with your missions just reading your updates. That all changes today; I need you and the _Enterprise_ to report to the attached coordinates at maximum warp. This is the real deal Jim." Kirk looked down at the attached files, his confused expression cleared immediately.

"That's the neutral zone, sir."

"Correct; you're to rendezvous with the _USS Hillary Clinton_ and, at least temporarily, relieve her patrol."

"We're relieving the _Clinton_? What'd the old dreadnaught do this time?" Kirk grinned in spite of himself.

"She struck a gravitic mine and knocked out her warp engines. The _USS Ulysses_ will meet you and the _Clinton_, she'll take on your cargo and complete the delivery after towing the _Clinton _to Starbase Sixty-Four." Pike leaned back in his chair and fixed Kirk with a hard stare. "Think of this as a chance to prove yourself. I had to lobby hard for this one, Jim, don't let me down." Kirk swallowed hard and fixed the admiral with an equally hard stare.

"I won't, sir."

"Good man Jim." Pike nodded once. "Now, how's it feel to be the big bad captain?" he grinned.

Twenty minutes later Jim begged off the comm., claiming the call of duty. Smiling brightly, he and Pike exchanged farewells before he powered down the station. He had never had a truly stable influence in his life before the Academy and, though he would never admit it, he was glad that Pike still kept tabs on him.

Sauntering out on the bridge, Kirk sat in his chair and accessed the coordinates Pike had sent him. He could feel the eyes of everyone on the bridge fixating on him, burning with a curiosity that could not be voiced.

"Mr. Sulu, set in a new course along these coordinates," pressing a button on his console; he forwarded the necessary information to Sulu, "maximum warp." Sulu automatically plugged the new data into his console automatically, hands pausing when he had finished the math.

"Aye – aye captain, new course laid in."

"Punch it Mr. Sulu. Mr. Chekov, what is our ETA?" Kirk was practically bouncing in his seat with excitement. After six months they were finally getting a real mission.

"We will be arriving at the indicated coordinates in sixteen point eight hours, keptan." The teen's accent had thinned somewhat, but it was still noticeable.

"Excellent Mr. Chekov." Kirk spun his chair to face his communications officer, stopping suddenly with the screech of his boots on the deck; he grinned as Uhura rolled her eyes and smiled ever so slightly. "Lieutenant Uhura, please forward a message to the _USS Hillary Clinton_ of our impending arrival." She stared at her captain for several seconds, waiting for the joke.

"Aye, captain." She said warily, turning back to her console. Kirk jumped to his feet and strode towards the turbolift doors.

"Captain," Spock's voice was even, like always, but Kirk could just make out a hint of curiosity. "The _Clinton_ is currently patrolling the neutral zone, is it therefore correct to assume that we will be taking her place in the fleet?" The turbolift doors opened. Stepping inside, Kirk turned to face his first.

"That is correct Mr. Spock; please assemble senior command staff in Conference Room A in ten minutes." Kirk grinned as the door slid shut with a faint hiss.

"Fascinating."

A/N: Hi folks! This is my first foray into fan fiction, but I have been a life-long trek fan, so I thought I'd give it a try. I'm sorry that this chapter is short and kind of dull, but it needed to be done to set the scene, I had to include the first scene, as it was the inspiration for the whole story, but don't worry, you'll find out who It is soon enough, and I promise things will get more interesting from here on out. This is unbeta-ed, so all mistakes are my own. As always, reviews are not necessary, but greatly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: New life and new civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

"Arriving at Navigation Point Alpha Captain; dropping out of warp in three, two, one." Jim felt the ever so subtle shift as the _Enterprise_ cut her warp engines. Looking out the bridge window he saw nothing but stars; it was disconcerting to know that less than a light-year from where they sat was the neutral zone.

"Mr. Chekov, activate long-range sensors, I want to know what's out there. Lieutenant Uhura, start scanning all known frequencies, see if we hear anything." Jim rubbed his eyes. Less than twenty-four hours ago his biggest responsibility was successfully transporting a dozen glorified tractors; now he was among a select group of ships and captains tasked with providing the first line of defense for the Federation. "Mr. Sulu, set a standard patrol course, full impulse."

"Aye, Captain." The three of them chorused. The rendezvous with the _Clinton_ and the _Ulysses_ could have gone better, he supposed, but really, it couldn't be helped. It still rankled him that nearly every officer in Starfleet treated him and his crew as neophytes, but he had taken a certain vindictive pleasure in detailing Sulu and Chekov's _experience_ to the captain of the _Clinton_ when he had offered his own officers to make up for the _Enterprise_'s lack of experience.

"Excellent, Mr. Spock, you have the conn." Kirk stood from his chair and nodded to his first; receiving the slightly raised eyebrow he had termed the 'if you wish, sir' glance. Stepping into the turbolift, Jim made his way back to his quarters. Making a beeline for the replicator, ordered another large black coffee (his fifth or sixth, he wasn't sure) before sitting behind his desk.

Looking past the pile of PADDs he was supposed to be reviewing and looked about his quarters. They were bigger than the two-man suite at the academy he shared with Bones, and, yet, after six months they still didn't feel like home. The walls were blank and unadorned, he had gotten rid of that god-awful Starfleet-issue painting the minute he had set his gear down, even his desk bore only the necessary equipment. Sighing heavily, he turned back to the PADDs on his desk, slowly reading through Scotty's report on some engine maintenance he had performed, unable to shake the niggling feeling that something was missing in his life.

It was several hours later that the gentle ring of the door caused Jim to look up from his work. The pile of PADDs had grown slightly smaller.

"Enter." He called, setting his stylus down on the desk. Spock stood in the doorway, chess board in one hand, black metal case in the other, a questioning eyebrow raised. Jim smiled widely and waved Spock in; their friendship, though still forming, was growing stronger over the unlikely game. Spock had been surprised to learn that Jim played the game and was even more surprised when Jim's chaotic and illogical style of play had completely decimated him during their first match.

"Thank you Captain. I trust your evening has been…productive?" Spock glanced at the piles on Jim's desk.

"It's Jim, Spock. We're not on duty, call me Jim." He walked over to the replicator, retrieving two cups of tea as Spock set up the board. The two men settled into companionable silence and began their game. The first matches they had played were marked with ruthless bravado more than anything else, each man trying to prove his skills to the other. Now their games were more about companionship and conversation than anything else. Their conversations had extended to personal beliefs as much as ship's duty.

Jim sipped his tea, watching the game before him unfold. Leaning forward, he swiftly made his move, taking one of Spock's rooks in the progress, and settled back in his chair. Spock merely raised an eyebrow before sipping his own tea, considering the board. A gentle, but incessant, ring came from the small comm. Terminal on Jim's desk.

"Bridge to Captain Kirk." Uhura's voice rang through the quiet quarters. Kirk pressed the audio response switch.

"What is it lieutenant?" he said, watching as Spock moved his queen to a very inconvenient place.

"We're picking up a distress signal, very weak and fading fast." Jim set his mug down on the desk.

"Where?" He asked. A small ball of dread was forming in his stomach; he was fairly certain of the answer.

"In the neutral zone sir." Spock's face snapped from the chess board to the comm. station. Jim stared wistfully at the unfinished game.

"On my way."

"Report." Kirk stepped off the turbolift and made a beeline to his chair; he could feel Spock behind him proceed to his station.

"Keptan, three minutes ago long range sensors picked up a distress signal from an unknown wessel located two light years within the neutral zone." Chekov said from his station. Kirk could feel everyone on the bridge looking at him.

"What's in the transmission?" He turned to Uhura.

"Nothing, sir. Just a series of updating coordinates tracing the ship's location. The signal is growing weaker with each broadcast." She said, staring intently at her station, constantly fine-tuning the signal.

"Is it drifting towards us or the Klingons?"

"Towards the Klingons captain." Uhura looked up from her station, locking eyes with Kirk. He could see slight fear hidden behind the determination. Turning to face his first, Kirk let the unspoken question drift between them.

"This region of the neutral zone is not known for Klingon incursions or probes. It is logical, however, that they regularly patrol their side of the neutral zone much as Starfleet does, captain." Spock locked eyes with his captain; both of them felt an odd sense of déjà vu. Kirk squared his shoulders and turned back to the viewer. Somewhere out there was a crippled ship begging for help, followed by dozens of Klingon warships just waiting to blast him from the stars.

"Mr. Chekov," he said finally, "are you picking up any near-by ships?"

"No, Keptan. The nearest wessel is the _USS Kodiak_ in the next patrol zone." Chekov replied.

"Very well; Mr. Chekov, sound red alert. Mr. Sulu, lay in an intercept course, maximum warp." Red lights flashed throughout the ship. The turbolift doors flew open as crewmen rushed to fill their stations on the bridge; Kirk could imagine more people running through the bowels of the _Enterprise_ just as they had practiced dozens of times before, only this time it was for real.

"Course laid in Captain." Sulu said, his hand hovering over the warp drive controls.

"Punch it." The familiar hum of the warp drive, always a constant background in a starship, spun up as the _Enterprise_ readied herself for warp speed. Sulu's hand rested on the controls for a second before slamming the ship into warp.

The jump to the crippled ship took only a minute, but it seemed to drag on forever. Kirk watched his bridge crew; all of them were at the stations, focused on their work. Chekov's hands flew over his displays, constantly scanning for the enemy. He couldn't help but smile to himself, despite the worries of the Admiralty, the crew of the _Enterprise_ was performing at peak performance. What waited for them, god only knew, but he knew the _Enterprise_ could handle it.

"We're nearing the signal's location Captain, dropping out of warp in five seconds." Sulu smoothly slid the ship out of warp, coming to a halt in the middle of the neutral zone.

"Mr. Chekov, anything?" Kirk leaned forward, resting his elbows on his chair, muscles tensed.

"Negative, Keptan. The only ships in the area are us and the unknown, three thousand meters directly ahead." The ensign replied.

"On screen." Kirk stared at the viewer. On the screen was a ship unlike anything he had ever seen. It was small, some kind of shuttle, and the hull had been riddled with disruptor fire. It had a long, cylindrical core, a large wing cut through the rear of the shuttle with two tall fins to either side of the main hull. The starboard wing had been completely sheared off at the base while the port wing had been shot off half way down. "Life signs?" Kirk asked, not taking his eyes from the unknown ship.

"Unclear Captain," Spock responded, "sensors are picking up a variety of signals. I am reading one definite life sign, but it is extremely weak, but there may be others."

"What about the atmosphere?"

"It conforms to class M standards." Kirk considered his options, beaming over to the shuttle would be dangerous, not only was it structurally unsound, but it would require them to lower their shields. Drumming his fingers on the armrest, he finally came to a decision.

"Mr. Sulu, bring us about so the ship lies one hundred meters aft of the shuttle bay. Mr. Chekov, as soon as we reach station, extend the aft shields around the ship." He activated the comm. link in his chair, "Mr. Scott?"

"Aye Captain?" Scotty replied after a moment.

"We're going to pull an unknown, heavily damaged ship into the hangar bay. As soon as I signal, I want you to grab it with the tractor beam and bring her in."

"Aye Captain, on my way." Kirk could just imagine the enthusiastic Scotsman running through the ship.

"Captain," Spock looked up from his station, one eyebrow raised, "spreading our shields far enough to engulf the unknown vessel will weaken them to sixty percent normal strength, an ill-advised maneuver in our current situation. Furthermore, it is highly dangerous to bring an unknown vessel aboard the _Enterprise_ and is a violation of-"

"Mr. Spock, I understand your concerns," Kirk cut him off mid sentence, "but the fact remains that in order to beam the survivors aboard would require us to lower our shields, an action I am unwilling to take, given that we're in the middle of the neutral zone with who knows how many Klingon cruisers a dozen light years away who would like nothing more than to light us up like a god-damned Christmas tree!" Kirk locked glares with his first, his usual humor was gone. Seconds ticked by as the tension on the bridge grew, this was the first serious test of their friendship.

"Given the parameters your actions are…logical." Spock nodded finally.

"Right…right." The bridge warmed slightly. "Sulu, let's go; the sooner we get this thing the sooner we can get the hell out of here."

Kirk kept his eyes glued to the viewer as Sulu brought the _Enterprise_ up and over the wrecked shuttle. Sulu and Chekov worked in tandem, bringing the ship to station keeping and extending the shields to cover her. He glanced at Spock; he had taken over the long range sensors while Chekov worked with Sulu to bring the shuttle in. The Vulcan looked up from his station and gave a small shake of his head; they were safe for now.

"We're in position Captain." Sulu finally said.

"Mr. Scott, bring her in." Kirk said to the comm.

"Aye Captain, three minutes." Scotty's voice echoed in the massive cavern that was the shuttle bay.

"Sulu, as soon as he gets that ship in the bay, get us the hell out of here."

A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews! Here's the next chapter, and things will pick up from here, I promise. Like before, this is unbeta-ed so far, so any and all mistakes are mine, so sorry. As always


	3. Chapter 3

Title: New life and new civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

"Cap'n, we've got her on board," Scotty's voice was nearly drowned out by a klaxon blaring in the background. "She's got a wee bit o' radiation leak though. My team's on it, we'll have her right in no time."

"Good job Scotty, don't open that thing 'til we get there with medical, Kirk out." Jim took his hand from the comm. System. "Sulu, get us the hell out of here, Mr. Spock, let's go greet our new guest." Jim stood from his chair, rubbing his hands together in eagerness. Beneath him he felt the deck rumble ever so slightly; they had made it into warp.

"Captain," Spock spoke slowly, one eyebrow raised in a slightly exasperated manner, "I feel compelled to remind you that in situations such as these, Starfleet regulations require the ship's captain to remain on the bridge, lest he become incapacitated by force or forces unknown." He locked eyes with Jim, who merely smiled in return.

"Thank you Spock but, as you know, following regulations takes all the fun out of it. We'll get Bones on the way." Jim stepped into the turbolift, swiftly followed by his ever so slightly annoyed first officer. "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

The ride down to the medical bay was thankfully short; the silence in the turbolift had gotten somewhat awkward by the time they arrived. The medical bay was mostly empty, save for a single crewman laid up with a previously unknown food allergy. McCoy was in his office, slouching comfortably with his feet on his desk, scowling at a PADD in his hands.

"Bones!" Jim shouted, slamming his hand on the doctor's desk. McCoy's feet slid off with an excited shout and dropping the PADD.

"Damn it Jim!" He shouted back, picking up the fallen PADD. "What the hell are you doing here? And what's this I hear about us running around in the neutral zone? Did you fall asleep and let him run about like a madman Spock?" His last question was directed at the Vulcan standing in the doorway.

"As you are well aware Dr. McCoy, being half Vulcan I require less sleep than the usual crewmember aboard the _Enterprise_. Furthermore, you should also be well aware by now that once the Captain comes to a decision it is extremely unlikely that he will deviate from it." Spock stared at the cantankerous CMO, who merely leaned back in his chair, muttering about "green-blooded hobgoblins".

"What do you want Jim, and please don't say this is a social call."

"There was a distress call from an unknown shuttle in the neutral zone. Rather than lower our shields and beam over, I had Scotty pull it into the shuttle hangar and we're going to go check it out now, Chekov had been picking up some faint life signs aboard." Jim watched his friend's face and smiled inwardly at the curiosity growing in his friend's eyes. After a moment, Bones threw his feet off the desk and spun around, grabbing a small white case of a shelf behind him. Turning, he looked at Jim and scowled.

"Well lets go, the damn thing isn't going to investigate itself and you're sure as hell not bringing that mess into _my_ sickbay." He strode past Jim and Spock straight to the turbolift.

"Bones!" Jim shouted, running after him, "wait up!"

Montgomery Scott had seen many things during his career in Starfleet. He had seen whole planets destroyed, ships from the future, holes in space-time, starships of every make and model, and a beagle whisked away on a transport pad, never to be seen again (he felt really bad about that one, he really did); but he had never seen anything like this. The energy readings he was picking up from the shuttle were just _wrong_. There had been a slight radiation spike right as the shuttle had landed in the _Enterprise_'s hangar bay, emitting a low level background radiation that was unexplainable; small pops and whistles emanated from his sensors as Scotty scanned the ship for a third time. _Something_ had been powering that shuttle until they brought it on board, but it wasn't a matter/anti-matter reactor like the _Enterprise_'s, nor was it some kind of artificial singularity; either way, Scotty couldn't wait to figure out what it was.

The turbolift behind him opened with a quiet _whoosh_ and three heavy foot treads stepped out onto the iron grating. The engineering section of the ship, including her hangar, wasn't nearly as pretty and pristine as the rest of the ship, carpeted decks gave way to removable iron gratings and corridor walls gave way to massive support columns. He'd take the industrial chaos over the neat and nice any day.

"What you got for me Scotty?" Jim said, stepping next to his chief engineer, peering out of the shuttle control room. Down below several engineering techs were scanning the unknown shuttle with a variety of instruments.

"She's safe enough sir, don' know what that radiation spike was, but it's gone now. Might have been a reactor scrambling or who knows; either way the techs are lookin' her over now, should be safe enough to approach."

"Excellent." Jim replied, rubbing his hands together and failing at hiding the glee he felt at the unknown. "Let's go see what we got." The group, led as always by Jim, made their way down to the hangar floor.

It was bigger than he expected, and was leaking something neon green onto his ship. They walked slowly around the vessel; several lines of heavy, aggressive looking symbols lined the side of the hull, writing of some sort he assumed. At the back of shuttle, between the remnants of the two fins, was what could only be the door. Midway up the right hand side was a robust looking keypad with a single button and some sort of lens. Spock's hand flew up to the keypad, tricorder in hand. Shrugging, Jim raised his hand, index finger extended.

"Captain, I strongly caution against manipulating the controls in any way, we have yet to assess their meanings, or the presence of any security systems." Spock's voice had taken on the "stupid human" tone that Jim hadn't heard since before the _Narada _incident.

"I know." Jim said, and then quickly poked the single button with his finger. Several startled shouts and someone (he was pretty sure it was Bones) smacked the back of his head. A small holographic image flickered over the keypad. It looked for all the world like the keypads on the _Enterprise_'s own shuttles; again, it was dominated by a single large icon at the top.

"What the hell…" He stared at the little hologram, more of the same jagged writing flickered across the top, above all of the icons. Turning his head, Jim looked at his officers; Scotty looked torn between worry and engineering bliss, Bones looked annoyed, as always, and Spock's eyes were locked on his tricorder.

"I'm detecting a series of what appear to be sensors lining the holographic projector. I believe this to be some sort of projected control panel." Spock looked up at Jim, one eyebrow raised. Jim shrugged, raising his finger yet again. More shouts filled the hangar as he moved towards the hologram. He was surprised to actually _feel_ the holographic icon beneath his finger; the writing was even slightly embossed. Shrugging again, he pushed down. A heavy whirring sound emanated from the door, followed by a slight hiss. The door slowly descended downwards, resting gently on the deck and forming a ramp up into the ship.

The smell was the first thing that hit them. It was a sweet, metallic odor that Jim would recognize anywhere, the scent of blood. Steeling his nerves, Jim locked away that tiny part of his psyche that always threatened to break loose at times like this and looked down at the ramp. It was covered in streaks of blood.

"Jesus." Bones whispered, reaching into his bag for the medical scanner he carried. "I'm picking up two distinct blood types, neither is human." He reached into his bag again, pulling out a machine Jim didn't recognize and held it over the blood spatters; one of them was a deep crimson, the other had an oily metallic sheen to it. Grabbing a flashlight from one of the nearby crewmembers, Spock shone it down into the cabin of the wrecked ship.

The small cabin was covered in the same blood spatters as the door, thick pools of it congealing in the carpet on the deck floor. Several bodies laid scattered about the cabin. Four of them, the ones nearest the door, were Klingon, another one, Jim couldn't tell what species, lay in the middle of the room with something long and shiny in each hand. Behind him were two smaller bodies; the smallest one was furthest from the Klingons. Jim narrowed his eyes and swore; his chest was still moving.

"Dr. McCoy," Spock spoke clearly, but with a sense of urgency Jim rarely heard. "We have a survivor." Bones' head snapped up, his eyes narrowed and focused on the body illuminated by the beam. He whipped his communicator out and marched down the cabin unflinchingly as the pools of blood squelched beneath his boots.

"Chapel!" he shouted into the device. "Get your ass down here with a triage team now!"

Jim had to admit, watching Bones at work was awe inspiring. The man picked the boy up and carried him from the cabin and sat his small, limp body down on the stretcher Chapel and her fellow medics rushed into the hangar. With a calm, detached professionalism he ordered his team about with short, concise commands. Soon the boy was strapped to the gurney, some kind of scanner attached to his head linked to several other machines scattered over his tiny frame. One of the other medics was moving through the shuttle's cabin, scanning the rest of the bodies and laying only large black bags. Jim turned away; there was only so much he could handle.

"What's his condition?" Jim asked, walking over to McCoy who was staring intensely at his medical scanner.

"I don't know. Christ Jim, I don't even know his species." He slammed the scanner shut and barked at two of his orderlies to get the gurney to sickbay. He turned back to Jim, running after the orderlies to the turbolift. "I'll let you know when I find anything." He said as the door slid shut.

In short order the rest of the medical staff had bundled up the remaining bodies in the bags and trundled them off to the morgue attached to sickbay. As soon as they were gone, a horde of technicians in blue, directed by the even, clipped tones of Commander Spock. Soon the carpet of the cabin was stripped away, the blood-soaked samples cataloged and sampled.

"Captain," Spock was reading a PADD he had been handed by one of his subordinates, "the shuttle's computer system appears to be extremely advanced and their language…difficult for the computer to comprehend. I request permission to assign the two most qualified crewmembers to this project."

"Who did you have in mind?"

"Ideally, lieutenant Uhura and yourself."

A/N: I know it's a bit short, but it just felt like the story needed a break there. Again, everything's un-betaed, so mistakes are my own. If anyone is interested in (and has experience with) being a beta for this story let me know! Again, reviews are awesome!

Next chapter: Who did we just pull of that ship?


	4. Chapter 4

Title: New life and new civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

Jim sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. Stretching, he checked his chronometer; they had been at it for nearly twelve hours with only marginal success. He and Uhura had managed to activate the shuttle's computer system, but that success was somewhat dimmed by the multiple holographic consoles which (they found out quite by accident and some button pushing) could scroll through multiple interfaces. Now, hours later, he had settled on what he thought was astronavigation, given the multiple star charts, while Uhura sat a large table near the back of the shuttle, PADDs spread over the entire surface. The atmosphere had been a bit chilly when they had started working but she seemed somewhat mollified by Jim's ethic and determination. In the few breaks they had taken she voiced her frustrations; whoever these aliens were, their language seemed to utilize implied morphology and syntax, in addition to situational meanings for the thirty-odd symbols she had encountered thus far.

While Spock's technicians had stripped the bloodstains off the walls and floor in an attempt to analyze them, the metallic scent still permeated the small cabin. Jim could barely keep his subconscious recollections of the smell intact, to the point where he was short and sharp with everyone. Scotty and his crew had jumped at the shuttle like children at Christmas, pulling panels apart as they tried to figure out how the shuttle worked. The combination of traumatic childhood memories, an extremely frustrated communications officer, and an overly enthusiastic engineering department was giving Jim the beginnings of what he was certain would be a migraine from hell; the insistent beeping from his communicator was not helping things either.

"What?" He barked, whipping the small device out from his belt.

"You'd better get up here Jim." Came McCoy's reply; he sounded genuinely concerned. "Spock's on his way down and I've got the kid stabilized, I think, but…Christ Jim, I don't even know where to start."

"On my way." He replied, snapping the communicator shut. Stepping out of the shuttle, he took a deep breath of the fresh air and his migraine subsided just a bit. Thoughts of what could rattle his CMO so bad bounced through Jim's head as he rode the turbolift up from the hangar to sickbay. Walking in he could see Bones going over a report with one of his nurses. He tapped his fingers several times on the PADD before using it to point to a bed across the room. Jim followed his hands and saw the boy nestled in one of the hospital beds, several tubes connected to his body. He felt a pang in his chest and felt a sudden urge to go over to the boy, which frightened him. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't like children; it was more that he had no experience with them. Slowly, without really knowing why, he drifted over to the boy's bed.

He was small and young; he looked no more than five or six human years old, with short black hair that stuck up at odd angles and short, pointed ears. They stuck out slightly from the side of his head and, where Spock's ears had a gentle curve to the point, this boy's were straight and sharp, like the point of a knife. His skin was pale, like someone who was indoors far too often, with small brown dots that started at the bridge of his nose before flaring up his forehead and under his hair; his eyes were closed.

Jim looked up as the sound of footsteps drew near. Bones was walking towards him, PADD in hand. "What's the prognosis?"

"He should make it." McCoy replied with a sigh. "His electrolytes were low and he had lost a bit of blood from a cut on his chest. What's got me are his vitamin and mineral levels. They were barely measureable when we got him in here; we've pumped him so full he'll set off every metal detector in the damn ship and the levels haven't even blipped. It's like something is eating them up as fast as I can pump them in." Both men looked up at the quiet swish of the sickbay door. Seeing Spock, Jim nodded in his direction and walked over, leaving the boy with one last glance. Bones followed him.

"Captain, Dr. McCoy." Spock greeted both of them with a nod. Bones herded the pair of them towards the morgue.

"Might as well get this over with." He muttered. The morgue was Jim's least favorite place on the ship. The heavy smell of disinfectant mixed with metallic odor of blood and bile that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end; the place just smelled like death. All the bodies were laid out on tables.

"There are six bodies total, plus the one survivor." McCoy read from his PADD, voice hollow and detached. Spock simply stood there, arms clasped behind his back while Jim crossed his own arms over his chest, unconsciously rubbing his biceps. "The four Klingons we found at the back of the shuttle, all male, and two unknowns, both male, one appears to be a juvenile." McCoy's voice grew hard with the last word; he had always had a hard time with death, and the death of a child was that much worse.

"How did they die?" Spock's voice was even and logical as always, though somehow softer than normal. McCoy looked up from his PADD.

"Violently." He replied. "This one was eviscerated, sliced completely through from his groin to his neck. The next guy had his neck snapped so violently it completely tore his spinal column apart." McCoy walked slowly down the row of Klingon bodies, pointing to each one as he went. "This fellow had his windpipe crushed and the last one bled to death from the two massive lacerations that crisscross his chest. All of them also show heavy bruising; this was one hell of a fight."

"Holy shit." Jim said softly, staring at the carnage in front of him. "Who did this?"

"Best I can tell? He did." Bones pointed to the first unknown body. He looked eerily similar to the boy lying out in sickbay, though his hair was a lighter shade of brown. A queasy, uneasy feeling began to build in Jim's stomach. "Unknown Individual One. Male, 177 centimeters tall, I'd place him between thirty-five and forty earth years. The guy's built like a god-damned tank."

"I do not understand, Doctor. How could an ancient terran armored fighting vehicle relate to this unknown being's physiology?"

"Don't be so literal you green-blooded elf." McCoy all but barked. "His skeletal system is unlike anything I've ever seen. His bones are completely solid and coated in some kind of metallic-crystalline coating. His ribs are odd too; they're flattened overlapping plates encasing most of the vital organs."

"What killed him?" Jim stared at the alien's face. His stomach was growing tighter with each passing minute.

"Three disruptor blasts to the chest." Bones stared at the last, and smallest, body in the room. "His son died the same way."

"What?" Jim's head snapped around so fast he felt it pop and saw stars in his vision.

"The adult and the juvenile share fifty percent of their genetic material. Same goes for the kid out in sickbay. Kid's lost his whole damned family."

The hours following their unexpected guest were a blur for Jim. While he had indeed located the astronavigation controls on the damaged shuttle, Spock and his technicians were having a fair bit of trouble overlapping them with the _Enterprise_'s own charts; apparently, at least according to Spock, their navigation referenced a zero coordinate that was unknown to the Federation. McCoy had been making more progress. The vitamins and minerals he was constantly pumping into the kid were being concentrated in an organ along his spine that was very _unusual_. Bones had refused to say anything else until his tests were complete. Jim had other concerns.

"Pike here; Jim, is that you?" The admiral rubbed sleep from his eyes. He was sitting in bed; Jim could see a window over his shoulder. It was pitch black outside.

"Yes admiral," Jim replied, somewhat timidly. "Sorry to wake you." He added at the last second.

"Do you have any idea what time it is? You'd had better be foiling a Klingon invasion or I swear your next command is a garbage scow." Pike's voice grew harder and harder with each word.

"We've made First Contact; sort of." The words rushed out of Jim's mouth. Pike stared at him, mouth open. If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation, Jim might have laughed.

"What?" Pike sat straight up, all vestiges of sleep were gone from his eyes. Quickly, Jim launched into a rambling explanation of the past twenty-four hours; cringing slightly at Pike's scowl at the neutral zone incursion. "What was the shuttle's flight path?" Pike asked after Jim had gone silent.

"We don't know. Their navigation system uses zero system that's not in Starfleet records. Commander Spock is trying to sync their star charts to our own using known anomalies, but its slow going."

"Very well, keep me updated, Captain."

"Yes, Admiral." Jim nodded. He reached to turn the viewer off.

"Jim," Pike added after a second, his voice softer and less official, "figure out where this kid comes from, and they'll know your command's no fluke." He looked at Jim knowingly.

"Thank you sir, sleep well."

"Pike out." The screen went blank. Jim sat at his desk, staring at the blank screen.

He knew who _they_ referred to: Comak, Nakamura, Jones, and a host of others. It seemed like the only ones who trusted him were Pike and Archer. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. His dark thoughts slowly drifted to the small boy in his sick bay. A sudden protectiveness swelled deep in his chest; a terrifying urge to punish whoever tore his family from him. Without really knowing why, he really should be sleeping; Jim stood and left his quarters.

The corridors of the _Enterprise_ were dark this time of night; an attempt to show some semblance of night and day on the ship. He walked the halls aimlessly, nodding to the few crewmen he ran into. His thoughts tumbled through his head, paying no attention to where his feet were taking him. A part of him (it was larger than he was willing to admit) was festering with bitter resentment at Pike and his fellows for treating him like a petulant child; giving him a ship with a pat on the head and a "good job, Jimmy". A larger part of him, thankfully, realized that these thoughts _were_ those of a petulant child. He knew, truthfully, that Pike was doing all he could without risking his own career to further Jim's. In all truth, the man had become more of a father than Jim had ever had; he really was the closest Jim had ever come to a father. His own had died seconds after he was born and Frank had never wanted him.

A sharp, pungent odor burned Jim's nose and pulled him back violently to reality. He blinked several times to clear his vision and looked around. He had, somehow, wandered down to sickbay. Bones was nowhere to be seen (probably deep in sleep like a normal person) and he could only spy a solitary nurse sitting at the monitoring station. The lights here were subdued like the rest of the ship, casting the beds and machines in an eerie glow. The only occupant was still the boy, lying peacefully in his bed. The same sudden urge sprang up in Jim's gut; waves of protectiveness and sorrow washed over him. Grabbing a chair, he silently placed it next to the boy's bed and sat down, watching him sleep. They were kindred spirits of a sort, both having their families torn from them by forces unknown; though the boy's suffering was infinitely worse, Jim at least hadn't known his father's love before it had been ripped from him. A bitter melancholy filled his every bone as he fell into a fitful, uneasy sleep.

A/N: Sorry for so long with no update, but my mum came down for Easter holiday, so writings been put on the back burner for a bit. Thanks everyone for all the great comments!


	5. Chapter 5

Title: New life and new civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

His back was killing him. If it weren't for the hard plastic chair he was sitting in, Jim would have sworn he'd been captured and tortured by Klingons. It had also taken his brain several seconds to remember where he was. This was not helped by something constantly hitting his forehead. Slowly he opened his eyes; two copper colored eyes, split vertically by narrow, inky-black pupils, stared at him from inches in front of his face. Jim instinctively jerked back. His chair, precariously balanced to begin with, (he had apparently put his feet up on the bed during the night) toppled over backwards, sending him sprawling to the floor. As he lay there, catching his breath, he felt a massive sense of unease and fear fill his gut; for a minute he wanted to run as fast as he could out of the sickbay. He closed his eyes and listened, the only things he could hear were the ambient sounds of sickbay; no breathing, no movement, nothing.

Righting his chair, Jim sat down and looked at their guest. He had curled up at the head of the bed, sitting balanced on his toes and fingertips, as if he was ready to jump any second. His eyes were locked on Jim.

"Hey there." Jim said quietly, trying to sound gentle and reassuring. He smiled softly just for good measure. He watched as the tension slowly left the boy's body, muscles uncoiling inch by inch, though his eyes never left Jim's face. His small, dagger like ears were constantly twitching, as if he was trying to take in every sound in the room. "You okay?" he set both his hands down on the bed, making it as obvious as he could that he wasn't hiding anything. The boy's eyes flickered down to Jim's hands. Warily, as if Jim would pounce on him at any moment, the boy crept down the bed. Jim sat there, silently. He didn't dare move a muscle in fear of spooking him.

Time seemed to drag by as the boy made his way down the bed until, miraculously, his hands were just inches from Jim's. He locked eyes with Jim again as he lifted one hand up to Jim's, deliberately placing one of his own tiny hands over Jim's. A rush of emotions, loss unlike any he had ever felt, confusion, and anger washed over him; but fear; a crippling fear of this unknown world crashed over him like a storm; Jim jerked his hand back in surprise. The boy's response was immediate; in the blink of an eye he was back at the head of the bed, tensed and shivering.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Jim cooed, holding his hands out, "it's okay. I was just surprised, that's all." He slid his chair up towards of the head of the bed and held out his hands. He reached out for the boy. He didn't move, but he didn't relax either. Reaching out with his right hand, he gently wrapped the boy's smaller fist in his own. Again the waves of emotion washed over him, but this time he was prepared. Amidst the swirling chaos was a small voice.

"_Where is my father? My brother?"_ echoed through Jim's head; quietly and unsure, as if wondering if Jim could even understand him.

"He's…I'm so sorry." Jim's voice broke; he had no idea how to explain death to a child.

"_They are gone."_ Anger and confusion turned to a deep sense of loss and despair unlike anything Jim had known. Underneath it all, barely discernable, was an aching need to belong; it felt almost as if he were a cog removed from a machine, a sense of uselessness and idleness filled him; it was terrifying.

"_Who are you?"_ The question caught Jim off guard; without thinking, thoughts of the _Enterprise_, his crew, and his role as captain came to mind; the boy's fixed stare turned to one of awe. Without breaking their contact the boy unwound his tightened muscles and, much to Jim's surprise, climbed across the bed to his lap. He could feel a need for some kind of physical closeness and care; Jim gave as much as he could.

Spock sat silently at his station, surveying the bridge. He knew, without checking the ship's chronometer, that Captain Kirk was two minutes, thirty-seven seconds late for the beginning of his shift. While the Captain had many qualms regarding Starfleet regulations, he was punctual to the extreme. This behavior was most unlike the Captain. Reviewing the past few days in his mind, Spock readily came to the conclusion that the arrival of the unknown alien ship aboard the _Enterprise_ the Captain had begun acting somewhat different from his normal self. He made a mental note to speak to Nyota about it. Before he could make any such inquires, however, a more pressing matter needed his attention.

"McCoy to bridge." The doctor's tone was terse, but hinged with worry.

"This is the bridge, what is the problem Doctor?" Spock replied, the Captain still had not arrived.

"Spock? Where the hell's the Captain?" McCoy's voice grew even angrier.

"Unknown Doctor. I was in the process of contacting you for assistance, but you have rendered such action unnecessary."

"That's just great Spock; I'm glad you can realize when something's unnecessary, really; but do you think we can skip the pleasantries and find the god-damned Captain?" The doctor's voice rose with each word until he was virtually shouting into the intercom.

"Of course, Doctor. Have you checked the Captain's quarters? Perhaps his station is set to silent or otherwise occupied." McCoy stared blankly at the screen; apparently the thought had not occurred to him.

"Just meet me at his quarters you hob-goblin." The screen went blank. Yet another puzzling aspect of the doctor's behavior; he had meant no disrespect by pointing out the obvious assumption in his thought process, rather he meant it as a helpful observation. Another question for the lieutenant.

"Mr. Sulu," Spock stood up from his station and headed for the ship's turbolift, "You have the conn."

The trip to the Captain's quarters was thankfully short, given the Captain's proximity to the bridge; if he were not Vulcan, Spock would almost admit a sense of growing anxiousness at the Captain's tardiness and lack of communication; but Vulcans did not feel anxiety. The turbolift doors slid open with a quiet hiss; Dr. McCoy was waiting for him outside the Captain's quarters.

"We've got a bigger problem." McCoy said flatly, rubbing his hands together. "The boy's gone missing too. I've got security looking for him." Spock nodded his head in understanding. The two events were more than just coincidence. Both men put in their respective codes, a gentle chime sounded and the door opened.

The room was dark; the only light came from the lamp suspended over the desk. The two men moved slowly through the sitting area to the door leading towards the bedroom. As they neared it, the door slid open. The Captain lay on the bed, still wearing yesterday's uniform. He was on his side, head resting on one of the pillows; chest expanding and contracting rhythmically; he was alive at least. Pressed up against his side was the boy. He too was asleep. One of Jim's arms was wrapped protectively around the boy; the other was under his small head, cradling it like a pillow.

"Well isn't this just precious, the ship's collective shorts are in a knot and our valiant leader is busy dreaming happy families." McCoy spat.

"Captain Kirk, please wake up." Spock said loudly, taking a different path than the grumbling doctor. "Computer, lights." He added a second later. Kirk stirred slowly. He lifted his head from the pillow, blinking his eyes repeatedly against the bright light. Carefully he extracted his arm from under the boy's head, receiving a quiet, high-pitched whine in return.

"Bones? Spock?" He looked from one man to the other. "Why are you here?"

"You failed to arrive for duty at the prescribed time and were incommunicado, Captain. The doctor and I gained entry into your quarters in order to ascertain your location." Spock spoke quickly, cutting off whatever colorful remark the doctor was in the midst of making.

"What are you talking about?" Kirk continued to look between the two men. "What time is it?"

"Eleven minutes, seventeen seconds into the beginning of alpha shift sir." Jim shot out of the bed, stripping from his day old uniform while running to the attached ensuite.

"Why the hell didn't you page me?" Kirk shouted from behind the door; the humming of the sonic shower could be heard in the background. Spock stared at the door; the Captain's obvious lack of deductive reasoning confused him. McCoy jumped at the chance.

"Oh of course, why didn't we think of that?" He shouted at the door, throwing his hands up for added effect. Spock looked meaningfully at the fuming doctor.

"We attempted to Captain, but your communicator seems to be either silenced or malfunctioning. As the ship's First Officer and Chief Medical Officer, it was our duty to enter your quarters, as per Starfleet regulation six-"

"Yes, yes, yes." Jim said, cutting Spock off. He stepped out of the ensuite, towel wrapped around his waist for some semblance of modesty. Padding across the room, Jim threw open drawers and cabinets, quickly assembling a new uniform. Tossing his clothes on the bed, Jim motioned to the door. "Do you mind?"

"Mind what, Captain?" Jim stared at his first, mouth open. McCoy snickered.

"Captain Modesty here wants us to leave the room so he can get dressed."

"Captain, I assure you that there is no need for-" Spock locked his gaze on the Captain's face.

"OUT!" Jim shouted, pointing to the door. A quiet whimper sent Jim running to the bed. "Please." He added; his voice significantly lower.

Jim emerged from the room ten minutes later. He closed the door and set the sound-proofing to maximum. Turning to face the room, he was met with the twin stares of his First Officer and CMO.

"What the hell is going on here?" The doctor started in, his voice was quiet, but it managed to convey all of his anger, "Why is _my_ patient in _your_ quarters? He's a god-damned child!" Jim sat behind his desk and began self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Jesus Bones, calm down. I got a sub-space message from Pike and I couldn't sleep." Editing out the more emotional parts, Jim quickly explained the night's happenings. "In the end he wouldn't let go, so I just brought him back here, he seemed healthy enough." He ducked his head at the thunderous looks of the doctor.

"Looked healthy enough!" McCoy bellowed, practically foaming at the mouth.

"Doctor," Spock spoke loudly and clearly, drawing the irate physician's attention, "whether the Captain's actions were advisable or not is moot, as they have already occurred. I believe there is an Earth idiom involving escaped equines and an unattended ingress/egress point of an agricultural building." Both McCoy and the Captain stared at Spock, dumbfounded. Quirking an eyebrow, the Vulcan continued on. "A better course of action would be to ascertain the course of the shuttle and determine the location of its assigned vessel." The doctor opened and closed his mouth several times.

"Fine; the kid is probably okay anyways. I did run some tests though and the results are…odd."

"Right," Kirk rubbed his hands together earnestly, "Spock, how's the ship?"

"All stations were operating at efficiency at the beginning of alpha shift and command currently sits in the hands of Mr. Sulu." He replied.

"Excellent. Bones, get your report ready, I'll be in sickbay in ten minutes. Spock, go to stellar cartography and ready all the information you've got; I'll be there at eleven hundred hours ship's time."

"Fine."

"Yes Captain."

A/N: A new chapter! If things seem to be moving a bit slow, don't worry; we'll be picking up steam from here on out. Also, thanks again everyone for the reviews and alerts, you guys are awesome!


	6. Chapter 6

Title: New life and New Civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

"What've you got for me?" Kirk strolled into sickbay. The boy sat on one of the beds, McCoy hovered around him, looking at charts. The little boy's face broke into a small when he saw Jim, only to become an indignant squawk as Bones jabbed him with a hypospray. Bones looked up from his chart.

"This kid's physiology is unlike anything I've ever seen. I ran some tests on…on the others, and I couldn't figure it out, but when the kid started sucking down every vitamin and mineral I had in damn ship, it clicked." McCoy turned to the viewscreen behind the bed and pulled up an image. It was blood, Jim knew that, he recognized the red, doughnut shaped cells moving across the screen. There was something else though, something different. Among the blood cells were a series of metallic…things. He couldn't really describe them, they were oblong, with a series of antennas and manipulators covering their surface; even the blood cells, on closer inspection, had a metallic sheen to them.

"What the hell is that?" Jim finally offered.

"Nanites." Bones rubbed his hands together; he was like a child on Christmas morning. "Its nanotechnology, robots that function on a cellular level, his body's full of them."

"How do they work?" Jim asked, watching the cells and machines move across the screen.

"Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not an engineer! How the hell should I know? They seem to come from here though." Bones changed the orientation of the viewer, zooming out to show a scan of the boy's back. He pointed to an organ growing along his spine; it had created a small ridge along his back, running from the base of his skull to the small of his back.

"So you're telling me this kid's been genetically engineered?"

"More like biomechanically engineered and the other ones were found were too; it's entirely possible their whole species is like this. I-"

"Spock to Captain Kirk." The intercom interrupted the doctor. Jim walked to the nearest console and depressed the switch.

"Kirk here, I told you I'd be down at eleven hundred hours Spock."

"Understood Captain, however, we have ascertained the shuttle's flight path." Spock's voice was thin and tinny, like he was standing a ways away from the intercom. Jim turned to face the doctor; he got a terse nod in reply.

"I'll be down in ten minutes Spock. Kirk out." He released the switch.

"Green blooded hobgoblin, I swear he-"

"How's the kid, physically?" Jim cut him off before the doctor could build a full head of steam.

"He's fine."

"Good, we'll be back later." Jim slid past the doctor and grabbed the boy off the bed. Before Bones could react, they were out of sickbay and down the hall in the turbolift.

Jim sat at the controls, staring at the screens in front of him. Normally he liked stellar cartography, really he did. Today was different. The boy sat next to him, eyes glued to the screens, watching the stars move about. Spock sat on his other side, scrolling through the displays.

"This doesn't make any sense." Jim sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a monumental headache forming in the base of his skull.

"These are the last known flight coordinates of the shuttle, Captain. Lieutenant Uhura's language skills are unrivaled in Starfleet and Ensign Chekov's computer skills are more than sufficient to process the data. Furthermore–"

"My point, Spock," Jim said loudly, cutting off his first, "is that there are no planets within the shuttle's path and short range shuttles don't just appear out of nowhere, the damn thing had to come from somewhere." Jim leaned back, letting go of his nose and massaging his temples.

"Agreed, Captain." Jim's eyes snapped open; Spock was staring at him intently.

"…what?"

"Your statement regarding the improbability of a shuttle materializing from the atoms present in a given section of space was cogent and factual; I was expressing my agreement with this assertion." Jim stared at his first officer, dumbfounded. "I was agreeing with you sir." He added after a moment.

"Yes, well," Jim paused, trying to work through his thoughts, "where did it come from then?"

"Unknown sir, the shuttle's computer core was partially damaged in the attack. Ensign Chekov was only able to fully compute the last three coordinate checks." Spock paused, staring at the screen. Jim sat up straight, hands poised over the terminal. He could feel an idea forming in the back of his head, just out of reach.

"What if," he slowly began to type as he spoke, altering the plot on the screen, "what if we extend the shuttle's course backwards?"A dashed line extended from the shuttle's first known location.

"A somewhat simplistic supposition Captain, it assumes no course corrections or deviations from the original heading." Spock stared at the display, eyes fixed on the screen while his hands flowed smoothly over the console. "It does, however, bring the shuttle within two light years Ceti Sigma VII beta."

"Which is?" Jim prompted. He was verging on a full grown migraine now. The boy (_we really should give him a name_ Jim mused to himself) scooted closer to him and stood on the chair, his face now level with Jim's own. He reached out and placed one small hand on Jim's temple. The Captain felt the pain in his head gently recede. _Yet another oddity to add to the list, gotta love space_. Jim sighed.

"Ceti Sigma VII beta is a trading outpost located on the second moon of the third planet of the Ceti Sigma system. The system lies near the neutral zone, but is not actively claimed by the Federation or the Klingon Empire. As such it has developed a large commerce station that is without effective government oversight. The possibility exists that the shuttle had been dispatched by a larger craft to obtain certain resources."

"That's it, that's where they were."

"That is one of seventeen possible locations Captain, more time needs to be spent to fully analyze the shuttle's course and ascertain the highest probable trajectory."

"I'm telling you, that's where they are. Call it Captain's intuition, a lucky hunch, illogical human emotion; hell call it whatever you want. That's where I think they are and that's where I want this ship to go. I also want a full briefing for senior personnel in four hours, I want to know everything." Jim stared evenly at Spock, trying to read anything in the Vulcan's stony visage. He knew he was gambling a bit, hoping that their new-found working relationship had progressed like he thought it had; he needed Spock behind him on this. It didn't matter if he questioned Jim privately; he needed Spock to have his back in the eyes of the crew.

"Very well sir, I will make the necessary arrangements." Spock said after a moment.

"Excellent. I'm going to update Pike and catch a nap, page me half an hour before the briefing." Jim stood and stretched his back. "Come on junior." He grabbed the boy around the waist and swung him up and over his shoulder, eliciting a quiet giggle. The two headed towards the turbolift, Jim carrying on an inane, one-sided conversation.

"Fascinating."

Jim had to give Pike some credit, the man was damn near unflappable. He had taken everything Jim had to report in stride, even when a small raven-haired head appeared on the screen, copper eyes wide with curiosity.

Now the boy, Jim had finally decided to call him George, was kipped out on the sofa in his living quarters. Jim himself sat at his desk, ostensibly doing work. After reading the same paragraph for the fifth time he sighed in frustration and threw the PADD down on the desk. His eyes drifted over to the small child on his sofa. He really couldn't explain it (he tried several times) but he just felt drawn to this kid. Ever since his first night on the _Enterprise_, George had grown comfortable around him. It wasn't as if he was afraid of the rest of the crew, hell he let Bones poke and prod him more than anyone Jim had ever met, yet still, he was far calmer about the whole situation than he thought possible; it seemed almost as if the kid's belief was that if Jim thought the other person was trustworthy, George thought they were trustworthy. Frankly, trying to think about it made his head spin. Shaking his head of the mental cobwebs, Jim ordered another coffee and sat at his desk, rereading the detailed report Spock had compiled for their staff meeting earlier.

The information Starfleet had on the outpost at Ceti Sigma VII beta was…marginal at best. As Spock had so aptly stated, the area of space was not actively contested or claimed by either the Federation or the Klingon Empire and, as such, had developed a thriving, if somewhat gray-market, bazaar. Built under a pressure dome of a rocky moon orbiting a gas giant, the place had apparently started life as some sort of mining venture, but had quickly fallen on hard times. Now survived the place survived as a remote, backwater depot, free from Federation oversight and Klingon taxation. Who ran the place was truly unknown, though it seemed to be dominated by Dopterians. The only somewhat useful piece of information had been a rumor that the miles of tunnels underneath the place could be used to hide virtually anything, for the right price of course.

Draining the rest of his coffee, he stared into the bottom of the cup, contemplating a second, when he heard a muffled whimper coming from the couch. Dropping the PADD on the desk, Jim rushed to the couch. George had managed to bury himself deep within the cushions, to the point where he could barely be seen. He was rocking from side to side, seemingly trying to fight off some unknown demon. Jim sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. On some level he had been expecting this, he hadn't made any fuss during the day, so it seemed only fitting that George's mind would terrorize him in his sleep. Carefully, Jim sat down on the couch next to the writhing boy and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, it's alright buddy. Shhhh." Jim made gentle, quiet noises as he firmly held the boy's shoulder, freeing him from the terrors of his memory. In a flash George's eyes were open. Wide with terror, he seemed momentarily lost before his gaze locked on Jim. In less time than it took him to blink, the captain found himself with a lapful of quivering, terrorized child. Burying his own unease with the situation, which was far easier than he was willing (or ready) to admit, Jim wrapped his arms around the boy and ran fingers through his hair, murmuring quietly until George once again passed into a fitful, disquieting sleep.

A/N: Ah! I'm so sorry this took so long! Between real life and a major case of writer's block, I could not get this chapter out until now, and even then I'm not really happy with it, but this bit had to be done before we could move on to the action. These first few chapters of _New Life and New Civilizations_ are serving as a kind of broad introduction to a storyline I have mapped out in my head, so don't worry, we're nowhere close to done yet. To all my readers, again, thanks for the comments, seeing them makes this seem worthwhile. Until next time…


	7. Chapter 7

Title: New life and New Civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

It had taken the _Enterprise_ the better part of three days to work its way through the complicated border region that was the neutral zone, not to mention Starfleet's chain of command. If he wasn't absolutely certain that no one in the upper echelons had a sense of humor, Jim would have bet anything they were bullshitting him. Every admiral, it seemed, wanted a full briefing on the events that had led Kirk and his crew to their current situation and getting all of them to agree on a course of action was a bit like herding cats; a waste of time that had them running in circles and going nowhere. Finally, after a series of con-fabs and meetings, the _Enterprise_ had been given permission to leave their patrol zone and chase down the unknown shuttle and her murdered crew. With the arrival of their replacement, the _USS Leela_ and her rather brusque, purple-haired captain, the _Enterprise_ was speeding off to Ceti Sigma VII beta.

The hours after his shift found Jim slowly clawing his way out from under the piles of paperwork that seemed to multiply like rabbits on his desk. This evening, like all the others, he sat in his chair, feet up on the only clear corner of the desk, sipping yet another cup of coffee, while George played quietly with some building blocks Uhura had had the sense to program into the replicator. Jim's eyes slipped from his report (an update on the waste process turbine servicing sector three, even in space one had to worry about the basics) and watched the small boy. He was beginning to worry.

While George's external demeanor was nothing but pleasant, his nights were very different. Jim had taken to laying the boy in his bed when they went to sleep; it was far easier to stop the nightmares then, and George seemed more relaxed in his presence. What really bothered Jim, not that he had admitted this to anyone but McCoy and, for some reason, Spock, was that the boy had not made said a single word since coming aboard the ship. Bones had simply launched into a long-winded explanation regarding coping methods and physical traits (George's vocal cords were just fine) and a whole range of psychological triggers that made Jim regret saying anything. Spock had been surprisingly insightful with his answer.

"Perhaps he does not have anything to say."

As the ship neared the station, an uneasy feeling kept bubbling up in Jim's gut; Spock had scoured both the _Enterprise_'s own computers plus those of Starfleet, neither held any references to the as of yet unidentified aliens. Whoever they were, Jim was determined to find out.

He pushed such thoughts from his mind, tonight there was no use for such thoughts; tonight Jim was determined to show George a fun side of his new and, hopefully (though oddly Jim chose not to dwell on that thought) temporarily adopted culture. It had taken some effort, he'd managed to trick Sulu into helping him move some furniture around, but Jim had managed to reorient the rather large sofa in his quarters, apparently a favorite spot for George, judging by the amount of time he spent running and jumping over it, to face the large vidscreen mounted on the wall that was normally used for conferences with higher ups. Furthermore, Jim had scoured his quarters (and Spock's, but he'd be here for chess night anyways) for every spare cushion he could find.

For reasons that entirely escaped him, George had a maddening need to be up high. He sat on the tall back of the sofa as often as he sat on the sofa itself and, once, when Jim had stepped into the bathroom, he had come back to find the boy sitting _on_ one of the lights hanging from the ceiling, his legs wrapped firmly around its shade, a wide grin plastered across his face. To indulge him, Jim moved every breakable object he had and strewn the cushions over every hard surface around the couch, he had even taken one section and turned it on end, creating a kind of tower at one end of the sofa. How he had managed this while George had been with Bones, undergoing yet another check up, he wasn't sure, but who cared?

Spock prided himself on irrefutable logic. In the unending turbulence and chaos that was the last six months of his life, it served as his rock; an anchor to brace him against the storm. When the Captain had asked for the cushions from his quarter's standard sofa, Spock had been a bit…confused. Be that as it may, he had been reluctant to acquiesce to the Captain's request, it would serve no foreseeable purpose for Spock to put his home in disarray for an unknown reason, as the Captain had remained remarkably tight-lipped regarding his designs. His resistance had lasted right up until _Jim_ had resorted to bribing lieutenant Uhura to aid in his endeavors. What the price had been, Spock did not know, but he knew he could not resist the demands of Nyota; especially since she had gone into his quarters while Spock had been on duty and taken all of the cushions anyways.

Now, some hours later, Spock found himself in the turbolift heading to Jim's quarters. It had started innocently enough, a meaningless lunchtime conversation between the Captain and Ensign Chekov to which Spock had been purview. The two had been comparing hobbies, which quickly turned into a heated argument over who was the better chess player was. Spock had fully dismissed the conversation, but, in a way that was not entirely clear to him, he had been roped into a ship-wide tournament, all in the name of morale. It was surprising, then, to find himself beaten at the end but none other than a very smug looking Captain and a very…unorthodox strategy. Spock chose to ignore a very human feeling of a wounded ego and, instead, declared the Captain's victory a simple matter of statistics; it was impossible for Spock to win every game he played, and the Captain's victory in the tournament was simply that, a statistical outlier. A quick rematch later and Spock felt himself fully justified, ignoring the Captain's near victory and instead concentrating on his own.

That tournament, four months and sixteen days ago, had morphed into a weekly series of games in which the two men were evenly matched. They had become something more though. The words of his elder counterpart echoed in Spock's mind, that the men had a friendship that would define them both. In truth, the games had become much more than just a meeting of minds; they had quickly morphed into a meeting of friends rather than colleagues, in them they were Jim and Spock, not Captain and Commander. Tonight was something different though. First it had been the cushions, now he stood in the turbolift, Nyota's unexpected, but not unwelcome, presence next to him most…unusual. Their relationship had become somewhat more open since the beginning of the _Enterprise_'s first five year mission. Jim had made it abundantly clear that, even though Starfleet regulations may technically forbid their relationship, he could care less for regulations and, as long as it did not interfere with the running of his ship, Kirk would make sure no reports made it back to the Admiralty. Still, chess nights, as Jim had come to call them, had been a strictly personal time for the two; the inclusion of Nyota, given the past history between herself and the Captain, had greatly puzzled Spock, especially when she flatly refused to discuss the circumstances of her visit.

The two of them stepped off the turbolift, her left arm and hand wrapped firmly around his right bicep. They walked down the corridor, nodding to Scotty in passing, and pausing in front of Jim's door. Nyota was nearly bouncing on her heels, a happy smile on her face, as she reached for the door chime. A muffled voice called from within and the door slid open. Several very unexpected events rapidly ran through Spock's mind. Firstly, Jim's desk, while never messy per se, was pristinely cleaned, all PADDs stowed in the cabinet behind it. Second, the chess board, normally set on the table between the sofa and chairs, was instead sitting on the aforementioned cleared desk. Third, it looked as if there had been a brawl in Jim's quarters; the floor was littered with cushions and pillows (Spock recognized several of them) while one sofa, stripped of its cushions, was pushed in the middle of the room while the other was on end next to it, a very happy looking child teetering on top of it. A rather uncharacteristic squeal of laughter erupted from Nyota and she dropped Spock's arm and ran into the room, straight for the giggling little boy.

"Captain, I – " he began, but the other man cut him off.

"It's Jim, Spock. We're not on the bridge and we're not on duty. It's Jim." The blonde chuckled, motioning to the arm chair Spock usually sat in, it had been pushed over opposite Jim's chair behind the desk.

"What did you do?" Nyota laughed, reaching out to the little boy who simply dived off the couch-tower into a pile of cushions below. Jim laughed as Spock himself let slip the slightest grin.

"He's always climbing all over the damned place; I figured I might as well make it safe for him. His species must be arboreal or something." Jim walked over to the vidscreen and turned it on. A video Spock recognized, but could not name, came on, instantly grabbing the boy's attention. It was a children's educational program, he knew that, which took place on a station somewhere in the Federation. It was designed to appeal to the many diverse species that comprised the Federation, and showed them all living in harmony. It was rather simplistic, but was nonetheless very popular throughout space.

"Come on, have a seat." Jim motioned to the chair opposite his own, the man's voice breaking Spock's revere. Taking the offered seat, he began to set the board as Jim wandered over to the replicator, and, after a brief, friendly discussion with Nyota, served them all drinks. A cup of the bittersweet black tea Spock favored appeared on the table next to him, along with Jim's customary latte. Nyota took her own herbal tea and sat on the sofa, watching George who had reclaimed his perch on the upturned couch, legs tucked underneath him, cradling the mug Jim had just passed him, his eyes glued to the vidscreen.

.The night passed nicely enough. The Captain had prevailed, beating Spock two games to one, though the Vulcan didn't care. George had fallen asleep atop his tower sometime during their second game, Jim had to run and scoop the boy off the teetering furniture, tucking him quietly into his own bed. Nyota had joined them soon afterwards; the three adults talking like old friends long into the night, jumping from topic to topic with little care or flow. A sudden _beep_ from Jim's console echoed through the room, breaking their peaceful evening.

"Kirk here." Jim said, depressing a button on the console.

"Bridge here," Robinson's voice rattled from the speaker. "You'd better come up here sir, we're near Ceti Sigma VII and we've got some company." Jim leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, eyes fixed longingly on the door leading to his bed.

"On my way, Kirk out."

A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone! A bit of pointless fluff.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: New life and New Civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

"_Bridge here," Robinson's voice rattled from the speaker. "You'd better come up here sir, we're near Ceti Sigma VII and we've got some company." Jim leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, eyes fixed longingly on the door leading to his bed._

"_On my way, Kirk out."_

"What is it Robinson?" Kirk slid between the turbolift doors and out onto the bridge before they had even fully opened.

"Two system patrol craft on an intercept course, ETA two minutes, thirty seconds." Robinson stood and moved back to his ops station as the rest of the _Enterprise_'s primary bridge crew ran to their stations.

"Mr. Sulu, keep us on our course, this is still Federation territory, I'll be damned if we're going to be scared out of our own space. Mr. Chekov, sound yellow alert and get our shields ready." Kirk sat in his command chair, rattling off orders. "Spock?"

"The vessels appear to be small, main armament some form of phase cannon; the danger to the ship is negligible." Spock spoke without looking up from his display, answering his Captain's unasked question.

"Right, lieutenant Uhura, open a channel." He turned, facing his communications officer, who simply nodded in reply. "This is Captain James Kirk of the Federation starship _Enterprise_. You are interfering in the actions of a Starfleet vessel within Federation space. You will power down your weapons and stand aside or you will be fired upon." Kirk sat upright in his chair, facing the viewscreen. The two ships were small and insignificant; they didn't really concern him. Their overt hostility, however, was a bit disconcerting.

"This is the _Tybalt_, what is the Federation business at Ceti Sigma VII?" The audio feed was crackly and harsh. Kirk turned to Uhura, who shook her head; this was the best quality he would get.

"We are investigating an attack on a shuttle near here. As of now this is a local investigation only. If you would prefer, however, I can arrange for a full Federation investigation team and sector magistrate to convene at the station instead." Jim sat back in his chair, staring intently at the miniscule shuttle that stood between him and his goal.

"Captain, a word?" Spock looked up from his display. Jim simply nodded and stood, sauntering over to Spock's station.

"I do not understand Captain," Spock said quietly, "there is no such thing as a Federation investigation team."

"I know that Spock, and you know that. I'm willing to bet that he," Jim pointed at the shuttle on the screen, doesn't."

"What, exactly, are you hoping to accomplish with this?"

"I'm willing to bet this station isn't exactly up to code. Right now he's talking to his boss, who's going to decide that it's better to let the local cops take care of this then get the feds involved."

"You lied." Spock accused blankly.

"I gambled. This whole sector is a bit of a gray area, and I'm willing to bet real money that they don't pay any transaction taxes to the Federation."

"That is a logical assumption." Spock grudgingly agreed.

"So the fewer Feds they have wandering about, the better. They're going to hope we come in, ask a few questions, and go away." Jim said succinctly. Spock raised one eyebrow in response. "Trust me." Jim added, Spock's eyebrow climbed even higher before he nodded. Jim turned and wandered back to his chair, a rather smug grin spreading across his face. The bridge crew sat there for what seemed like hours. Jim was repeatedly drumming the fingers on the armrest of his chair, willing for the other ship to respond. In front of him Sulu and Chekov had begun a whispered conversation while the rest of the bridge crew milled about quietly, waiting. Only Spock sat silently, eyes fixed on the forward display.

"_Enterprise_, this is _Tybalt_, you are cleared for arrival at Station Ceti Sigma VII, Chief of Security Letash Nol is awaiting your arrival." Jim turned to his First and grinned. Spock's left eyebrow twitched slightly.

"Understood, Kirk out." Jim spun his chair to face his communications officer and made a slashing motion across his throat; Uhura nodded a moment later. "Right, Mr. Sulu, bring us in nice and easy." The _Enterprise_ quickly left the two patrol vessels in her wake. Kirk and the bridge crew kept their eyes fixed on the viewscreen, waiting, until Ceti Sigma VII beta came into view.

To say they were underwhelmed would be an understatement. Ceti Sigma VII itself was a large, green-tinged gas giant with, as far as Kirk could tell or care, a dozen or so satellites. The station itself was built on the second moon, a large, oblong, and crater-scarred piece of gray rock that looked more like a captured asteroid than a proper moon. The station itself was a collection of a dozen large and small, drab looking metal pressure domes connected by a warren of pipes and corridors. A handful of ships from dozens of races were scattered in the space around the station; several of them, to Jim's amusement, gave them a wide berth, one had even pulled abruptly from the station and jumped to warp the minute the _Enterprise_ parked in stationary orbit over the station.

"Captain, I'm receiving an automatic broadcast signal." Uhura held one hand up to the comm. Receiver in her ear, the other moving across her computer, translating the message. "It's transporter coordinates directing all arrivals to some kind of processing area."

"Right," Jim stood, "Relay the coordinates to the transporter room. Spock, you're with me, Mr. Sulu, you have the con. Let's go see if we can figure what the hell is going on." A chorus of "Aye, Captain" followed the Captain and his First Officer into the turbolift. A moment later found them in the transporter room, donning standard away mission belts; phaser, communicator, and, in Spock's case, tricorder. A Moment later found them down in the station's arrival hall.

The arrival hall, if it could be called that, was a study in chaos. Beings of every shape, size, and race moved throughout the crowd, each jostling for position. The two Starfleet officers had just appeared on the pad before they were hurried off to make room for the next beam down. The room itself appeared to be one of the larger domes, though the ceiling was hidden behind a maze of pipes and conduits that hung several meters over their heads. Spock subtly checked his tricorder and phaser; Jim scanned the room, looking for anyone who appeared to be in charge.

"Captain Kirk?" A being to the left of the transporter pad asked. She (the breasts kind of gave it away, even if there were four) was tall and thin, arms and legs long and spindly. She fixed them with piercing, calculating red eyes. "My name is Chief Station Director Letash Nol, I believe you wish to speak to me?" She folded her arms across her chest and fixed the two men with a bored glare. Jim could barely hear her high-pitched, reedy voice above the dull roar that was the arrival hall.

"Thank you, Director, is there, perhaps, somewhere a bit quieter we could talk?" the Captain near shouted. Nol flashed a look to two men who had walked up behind the Starfleet officers; Spock moved his hand, resting it on his phaser holster.

"Follow me." Nol finally nodded and turned, leading as the small party threaded its way through the hall to a pair of large security doors. She placed her hand on a large panel next to the door, opening it and leading them into, Jim assumed, the operations area of the station. Here dozens of people sat at various terminals, screens flashed with images from around the station while others showed readouts and space traffic. Nol nodded to her two men who broke off to a separate area of the station before gesturing Kirk and Spock into a large office at the back of the room. She perched in the large, stiff looking chair behind the desk before offering the two chairs opposite her to the pair of Starfleet officers and pushing a button on her desk, shutting the door and blocking out the din of the station.

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice." Kirk grinned at her, trying to give the meeting a somewhat lighter mood.

"I understand you are looking for a shuttle whose last position was in the vicinity of this station?" She replied coldly, shutting him down.

"Do you recognize this shuttle or her passengers?" Spock pulled up images of the damaged shuttle and the dead aliens on his tricorder, turning the screen to face Nol. The Station Director's eyes widened infinitesimally and she leaned back in her chair before shutting down her emotions completely.

"I am afraid not Captain," She fixed her eyes on Kirk, completely ignoring Spock and his tricorder. "Do you have a name or registration number?" She laced her long, boney fingers together, resting her elbows on the edge of the massive desk.

"Unfortunately we do not." Kirk replied, meeting her stare.

"Without a transponder code or even a name there is no way for me to search our arrival and departure logs for a specific vessel, I'm sorry Captain." She said, her voice carefully even.

"Of course Director, the vessel is rather distinctive; we were hoping it might spark your memory. We believe they may have stopped here looking for star charts or raw materials, where in the station would we find those vendors?"

"General bazaar, sublevel four; you will excuse me if I do not accompany you, I am quite busy."

"Of course Director, we'll see ourselves out." Kirk stood, nodding at the Station Chief and made to leave; Spock followed him a second behind.

"Of course Captain, please let one of my officers know if you are in need of further assistance." Nol picked up a tablet lying on the desk and began skimming its contents. The two officers made their way out of the office, the door shutting behind them, and towards the security doors through which they came.

"Captain," Spock said discreetly as the two slowly made their way to the exit, "I do not believe the Station Director was being truthful."

"No, she was not Spock." Kirk sighed. Stopping to inquire exactly how they could reach sublevel four of the general bazaar, Jim waited until they were outside the security doors before continuing his thought. "She knew that ship had been here, and something about them being dead scared her."

"Agreed Captain, but if the Station Chief was unwilling to provide any information, it is unlikely that any of the traders in the station will be more forthcoming."

"What do you mean Spock?" The two men stepped into a large freight elevator with several other beings and cargo. The elevator slowly began descending into the bowels of the station, numbers on a screen flashed as they passed various levels; thankfully one of the languages used was Federation Standard.

"The legal status of this station is nebulous at best Captain, any trader we encounter is certain not to risk displeasing her, as there is no higher authority to appeal to. To use a human idiom, she is the judge, jury, and executioner of this station." Kirk smiled, his favorite Vulcan was loosening up every day.

"Very true Spock, but let's see if two Starfleet officers can put the fear of God in them." Kirk grinned, rubbing his hands together.

"I do not understand, Captain, how will we –"

"I'll explain later Spock." The lift stopped at sublevel four; jockeying their way around a large pallet of piping at the front of the elevator, the two men made their way off it and into the bazaar. The noise was ear shattering, merchants and hawkers plied their wares in dozens of languages, each trying to out-shout the others and the symphony of buskers and beggars jockeying for position and currency. Spock's eyes shifted down to the display on his tricorder, eyes rapidly scanning the readout. "Anything?" Jim asked casually as he eyed the wares of the nearest stall, its owner babbling on in a language he didn't know.

"No matching energy signatures, Captain, but I am picking up a dense concentration of transparent aluminum and nanosteel plating forty-five meters ahead and three meters left, I suggest we start there." Spock snapped the lid on his tricorder shut. The two men moved slowly through the crowded hall, examining the stalls as they went. Jim took the tricorder from Spock and began showing it to the shopkeeps as they went; predictably none knew anything about the shuttle or its crew. As Kirk moved through the crowd, Spock watched the crowd milling about. While many of the beings went back and forth through the station, following no predictable pattern, one in particular caught his eye. He was dressed completely in black, from the heavy black boots on its feet to the black coat swirling around it to the solid black helmet covering its head. He had attracted Spock's attention several stalls ago; first he had been dismissed, but now he had followed them for six stalls.

"Captain," Spock walked up the Kirk's side and spoke quietly into his ear, "we are being followed."

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! Sorry for the long delay but, once again, real life got in the way.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: New life and New Civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

"_Captain," Spock walked up the Kirk's side and spoke quietly into his ear, "we are being followed."_

Jim Kirk fancied himself a smart man, an alert man. Years of…unkind treatment as a child, and more bar fights than he cared to count as an adult, had given him a kind of sixth sense when it came to feeling people's eyes on him. He felt the constant roving eyes as they roamed the aisles of the station's bazaar, focusing for the potential sale, and then turning away when it fell through. Therefore, Spock's observation that they were being watched came as no surprise to Jim. Turning casually, Jim surveyed the scene; it only took a single sweep of the bazaar to lock eyes with the being in black. It held a small trinket from one of the stalls in his right hand, turning it over and about, eyeing it with little interest. As soon as Jim's gaze fixed on It, Its head snapped up, unseen eyes staring out from behind a blank, featureless mask. Dropping the trinket back on the pile of wares of the nearest merchant, It turned and began to march determinedly down the aisle towards the two Starfleet officers, the fingers of Its left hand moving furiously within Its palm.

"Right Spock," Kirk said, grabbing his first by the bicep, "time to go." Turning down the aisle perpendicular to the one It was moving down, the two officers jumped into a nearby turbolift as the doors slid shut. He didn't know where they were going, but anywhere was better than near that creature. The turbolift began to descend through the station, taking them levels away from the being that had been following them. There were only two other beings in the turbolift with them; a tall, gangly, four-armed creature wearing some kind of environmental suit and a short, squat, pig-faced one in a station jumpsuit. Kirk's hand moved slowly to rest on the grip of his phaser, the day was not going well at all.

"Captain, this may not have been the most logical route of escape; there was no indication that the unknown alien being would cause us any undue harm in the public vicinity of the bazaar." Spock spoke quietly; his hand had also drifted down the grip of his phaser.

"Trust me Spock, he meant us harm, we had to get out of there as soon as we could." Jim's words tumbled rapidly from his mouth. For all he tried, Jim couldn't shake the feeling of absolute, un-phasing rage that had washed over him when It had locked eyes with him.

"There was no evidence of a threat, Captain."

"I'm telling you, I felt it. That thing was going to kill us, or worse."

Spock's tricorder gave out a soft tweet. His gaze flipped down to the device, "According to my readings, this asteroid is composed of a dense ore that is interfering with nearly all electromagnetic frequencies; the _Enterprise_ will be unable to transport us back to the ship from our current location."

"Oh," Jim's face drew a startled blank, "crap." The doors of the turbolift slid open with a quiet _whoosh_, the two beings in the car with them stepped out. Kirk looked out from the turbolift, rather than crowded with merchants and shoppers, these corridors were dark, a dim red light filtering down from the grating overhead. Up and down the narrow corridors groups of aliens moved about, deep in hushed conversation. Credit chips and bars of gold-pressed latinum changed hands for crates and data chips; this was not a part of the station meant for the public eye. Turning to face Spock, Kirk jerked his head in the direction of the corridor before stepping out of the car.

"Captain, this may not be the wisest course of action, this area of the station is un-mapped and appears decidedly…unpleasant." Spock spoke rapidly, his voice never rising above a whisper.

"I know Spock, but we can't go back up there, that thing is waiting for us. Our best option is to find another turbolift and get to a point where we can beam back to the _Enterprise_." Jim stepped out into the corridor, hand fixed firmly on his phaser while his eyes constantly scanned the hall for threats.

"Very well, sir." Spock followed him out into the corridor. Flipping open the cover of his tricorder, Spock scanned the area for a moment. "It appears that if we proceed down this passage for another six hundred meters and then bear right for another eight hundred meters, we should arrive at some sort of central hall or chamber," he snapped the lid of the tricorder shut, "it is the most logical location for additional turbolifts."

Jim nodded once in understanding and began to move down the hall. The two men, dressed in Starfleet uniforms of blue and gold, stood out as they moved through the under-levels of the station, drawing curious and alarmed glances as they went. More than once the two men stumbled into the midst of an unseemly business transaction, only swift steps and aggressive movements kept them safe. The intersection Spock had found was more of a "Y" than anything else, a set of stairs descended down to the left while the corridor continued on obliquely to the right. Stopping at this intersection, their problems multiplied; the corridor was blocked several meters down by a pile of crates and cargo containers. The two men looked at each other, Spock raised a single eyebrow in question, Kirk merely shrugged and turned to the stairs.

Descending the stairs, Jim noted a distinct change in environment. The corridor became taller and wider, pipes, cables, and ductwork hung from the ceiling and walls, covering the area in a dark, metallic web; somewhere down the line he could hear the constant drip of water hitting the metal floor. Their footsteps echoing off the metallic floor drowned out any sound Jim could hear while the intermittent lighting cast everything in shadow; this was not a place he wanted to be. The two walked for hundreds of meters, the corridor they were in twisting and turning in every direction without any side passages. In the dim light Jim could just make out five figures standing under one of the only lights. Their voices were loud enough for Jim to hear, the harsh, guttural language rang out in his head; things had gone from bad to worse. He stopped suddenly, Spock a step behind him, but it was too late; one of the beings looked up, his voice dripping with malice and amusement.

"Federation." The speaker stepped into the light. His skin was a deep chocolate brown; a heavy, bony ridge split his forehead, followed by thick, wavy black hair and a heavy, metallic uniform: Klingons.

"Hi there," Jim smiled gregariously, keeping his back towards the wall, "you guys know where we can find a turbolift out of here?" The group of Klingons just laughed and advanced towards the two officers "C'mon guys, we don't need to get into this." Jim tried again; it didn't work. The one nearest him swung a hammer-like fist at his head, Jim threw up an arm to block but the impact still sent him flying to the ground. Kirk kicked his leg out, catching the Klingon in the back of the knees and sent him sprawling to the ground. Pandemonium broke loose; two of the Klingons dove at Spock, who sent one sprawling to the ground, before locking into grappling combat with the other. Kirk grabbed his phaser and stunned one of the two standing Klingons, dropping him to the ground, before the weapon was kicked away by the other. Jim dove at his knees, dropping him to the ground. A heavy fist slammed into his jaw, sending him sprawling off the Klingon and skittering across the floor. Not waiting for the stars to clear, he dove at the Klingon again, fists flying and connecting with kidneys, chest and face. Kirk and his foe rolled across the ground in a tangled mass of fists and knees, an ugly brawl compared to Spock's elegant, precise strikes. Jim landed a hard, fast uppercut to the Klingon's jaw; opening a space between himself and the Klingon. A heavy, hobnailed boot connected with Jim's chest, sending him flying across the hall and slamming into the maze of pipes, cracking his head against one of the metal tubes. Momentarily stunned, he could only watch as the Klingon stood and grabbed him around the throat, squeezing and constricting his hand, choking the life from him.

"No one will find you here, human." He said with a sneer. Jim's vision began to turn black at the edges, the fist around his throat getting tighter and tighter. He clawed desperately at the hand, the sneering face sliding in and out of focus. Clinging to the edge of consciousness, Jim saw a flash of black and silvered metal collide with the Klingon choking him, sending the Klingon sprawling to the floor and air screaming into Kirk's lungs. He lay on the ground, lungs screaming in pain as oxygen flooded his system, and he saw It, the being dressed in black, grab the Klingon's head and twisted it violently, the _crack_ echoing off the walls. Spock, Jim wasn't sure how, had incapacitated one of his foes, and now dropped another.

"Captain, are you –"

"I'm fine Spock, what the hell is he doing?" Jim shouted hoarsely, rubbing his throat. The last remaining Klingon grabbed It by the throat. The Klingon was much taller; Its feet were dangling off the floor. It slammed the two metal gauntlets on Its forearms crosswise onto the Klingon's arms, but they held firm. A ring of steel on steel rang through the corridor, a pair of long, thin blades erupted from Its gauntlets; the Klingon had enough time to look surprised before It drew Its arms back, severing the Klingon's head in a single, swift motion; it fell to the ground with a dull thud. The being nimbly dropped to the ground, legs bent, ready to pounce; thick magenta blood dripped ominously from Its blades.

Jim watched in a kind of detached fascination, It sank slowly to the ground, finger pads barely touching, looking for all the world like a leopard ready to pounce. A low, threatening growl echoed up and down the corridor. It only took a moment, one second it was crouching low to the ground, the next launching Itself at the two Starfleet officers. It sailed over Jim's head, the blade of Its right arm barely scraping across his forehead, before slamming into Spock. He had managed to deflect the blade away from his body and carried Its momentum, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. Spock rolled along the floor, springing back up on his feet and sending It skittering across the floor, hitting a support column before stopping on all fours in another low crouch. Fixing them both with a hard, faceless stare, It sprang upwards, jumping into the piping overhead.

"You alright Spock?" Jim asked, running up to his first.

"I am fine, Captain. I suggest we find an access point out of this section of the station with all speed." Both men drew their phasers and looked up into the dark, metallic web of the ceiling.

"Right, let's get the hell out of here." Jim said, both of them ran down the corridor.

Jim's body slammed into the wall. Hard. His chest was heaving, sucking air into his burning lungs. Mud and oil were smeared over his gold command shirt; he could feel blood trickling from his forehead and several bruises on his ribs. Holding his phaser at the ready Kirk slipped his head around the corner, only to be slammed into the wall, again, by the body of his First.

"What the _hell_ is that thing?" Jim hissed, trying to see further down the dark tunnel.

"Unknown, Captain, although logic suggests-"

"Yes, yes, logic Spock, you can tell me all about it later; come on." Slowly the pair wound their way through the tunnels; Jim flinched at every hiss from the pipes and the flash of every light. The maze of pipes and cables cast everything in half shadows deep beneath the ground _'This is insane'_, Jim thought to himself, almost laughing despite the circumstances, _'this is like end very horror vid I've ever seen'_. He moved to tell Spock as much, try to inject a little brevity into the situation, when the shit hit the fan.

It fell from the ceiling, landing behind Jim with a dull thud, a hammer-like fist slammed into his side, sending him sprawling to the floor. Spock dove into action, fists flying, trying to drive It away from the Captain. As hard and as fast as Spock hit, It was faster, deflecting every strike until the perfect time, knocking Spock back with a heavy boot to the chest. With a low, primal growl It turned back to the Captain, picking him up in a vice-like grip; the cold steel of his gauntlet pressed against Kirk's throat.

"Spock!" He shouted, kicking and clawing at the iron grip holding him. It held its free arm to Kirk's neck, driving a hypodermic in deep; Kirk stopped moving.

"Captain!" Spock shouted, diving at the pair, but it was too late. In a swirl of cloth and a flash of blue light they were gone.

I'm not dead! Sorry this chapter took so long, but I've had a major bout of writer's block in combination with a lot of work in real life. Since I've been writing and editing this myself I've had no one to bounce ideas off of whilst working through my writer's block. That being said, I definitely know where this story is going, I've just got to work out some of the details. As always, comments and constructive criticism is awesome!


	10. Chapter 10

Title: New life and New Civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

"_Captain!" Spock shouted, diving at the pair, but it was too late. In a swirl of cloth and a flash of blue light they were gone._

Jim slowly opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was, nor how long he'd been there. His head, lolling against his chest, was throbbing in that way only powerful drugs could make it while his shoulders screamed in pain. He tried to move his left arm and met with mind-numbing pain; he was, apparently, hanging from chains connected to his now very numb wrists. He inhaled deeply and stretched his legs; his toes barely touched the ground, allowing him to take some of the pressure off his aching arms. Lifting his head, he winced as bright light flooded his vision. He was in a small room with heavy metal walls on all sides; they were plain, smooth, and unadorned, save for the single door in the wall opposite him. Between him and the door sat the only furniture in the room, a single black desk, smooth and shiny enough for Jim to just make out his reflection in its surface. It was perhaps an inch thick, maybe a bit more, with a surface that sloped down to form the solid legs on either side; on top of it sat a black tablet of some sort, made of the same shiny material as the desk, and a long, elegant looking silver stylus. Behind the desk sat a large, comfy looking wingback chair, its surface covered in what looked like deep crimson leather. He had a very uneasy feeling about the whole thing.

The door opposite him opened with an ominous _hiss_; in stepped the being from the station. Gone were the heavy gauntlets around his forearms and the long black cassock, replaced by a long, thick black vest which stretched to the ground and a finer embroidered black jacket underneath. Around his neck and shoulders hung a heavy sliver chain which hung down to the middle of his chest where a heavy looking badge hung. His face was still hidden behind the smooth black helmet. Pulling out the chair, he sat behind the desk and calmly waved his hand over the surface. Immediately the desk sprang to life, images and writing flashed and scrolled across the surface. He bowed his head, seemingly reading the display for several minutes before waving his hand again; screen promptly went blank. Taking the silver stylus in his hand, he tapped it once on the tablet and looked up, fixing Jim with an unseen gaze.

"What was your purpose for attacking a vessel of the Myrrshan Star Empire?" He more demanded than asked. The voice was heavy and artificial, like it had been processed and translated by a computer and seemed to not come from the being itself, but rather from the room as a whole. Jim stared at the alien, confusion washing over his face before determination set in. He had to give him credit, the being had done his homework; he certainly knew how to terrify a human. He fixed the faceless mask with an even gaze; two could play this game.

"James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the Federation starship _USS_ _Enterprise_, service number-" a sharp pain lanced through Kirk's body, breaking his response and ripping a snarled scream from his chest.

"What was your purpose for attacking a vessel of the Myrrshan Star Empire?" His interrogator repeated himself.

"Service number sierra charlie-" another shock tore through his body. The alien repeated himself for a third time. "-sierra nine three seven dash zero seven one six charlie echo charlie." Jim finished, unabated. Closing his eyes, he braced his body for another shock. It never came.

Opening them, he saw the alien was no longer staring at him, but rather looking down at information streaming across the desk surface, the stylus he now held in his right hand moved across the surface of the tablet in short slashes and strokes. Straining against his bonds, Jim craned his neck over and peered at the tablet. He could just make out the faint silver writing that was recorded with each stroke of the stylus; it looked very, very familiar. Racking his brain, Jim's mind flashed over the past week since this whole adventure had started. The shuttle: that's where he had seen it. The writing was less heavy and angular when written by hand, but he was sure of it. The memories of the shuttle brought with them others. In the silence of the room Jim found his mind drifting to young George, hoping he was okay. It wasn't that he didn't trust anyone on the _Enterprise_ to watch after the boy, it was more that George didn't seem to fully trust anyone else. The poor kid had had his family ripped from him already, now to have the only person he fully trusted on the ship taken as well seemed like a cruel move to Jim.

As if reading his mind (Jim was fairly certain he was) his interrogator's head snapped up, fixing him with an unseen stare. Standing so suddenly that the chair's feet screeched along the metal floor, the man turned and marched out the door, coat tails billowing behind him. The door opened and shut with a finite _hiss_.

He hung there, limply. The bright lights were starting to give him a headache and his shoulders were nearly popping out of their sockets. Sweat dripped from his brow down into his eyes, stinging him every movement. Jim had no idea how long the alien had left him for. He was pretty sure it had been an hour or so, but in his situation, who knew. It was funny, in a cruel, ironic fashion; his week had started trying to help an unknown alien and now here he was, stuck in the chains of _another_ unknown alien.

Jim's head jerked up at the ominous _hiss_ of the door. His interrogator stepped back into the room, the door closing behind him. In his left hand was a metallic rod, it was square, about as wide as his palm, and came up to his hip. This was not good. Jim steeled his body, readying for the blows. He'd been beaten before, Frank had made sure of that, but, despite what he always told himself as a child, it never got easier. The interrogator stopped behind the chair, seemingly fixing Kirk with an unseen gaze. With measured, even steps, he walked around the chair and the desk, stopping between the desk and Kirk; he set the end of the rod on the floor with an echoing _clank_. He stood silently, staring and Kirk. His body was rigid, left arm tucked behind his back while his right rested on top of the rod. Without looking away, he depressed a hidden button on the top of the rod with his thumb. Whatever Jim's subconscious mind had been preparing him for, this was not it.

The rod quickly unfolded into some kind of rickety looking camp chair. Walking back to the desk he waved his hand over it and pressed one of the holographic buttons. The chain holding Jim in place slowly unwound, lowering him to the ground, he sighed deeply as his arms flopped down onto his chest, the muscles of his arms and back twitched involuntarily as he felt the pins and needles flooding his limbs. The alien bent down and unbuckled the shackles around Jim's wrists, pulling him, not unkindly, up and into the chair. Jim felt the chair take his weight, it was surprising solid. Gently he rocked his shoulders back and forth, reveling in the dull ache of the movement. He watched his interrogator settle into the leather chair across the desk. He picked up the tablet and stylus, moving them to the side of the desk. Interlacing his fingers, he laid his hands on the desk.

"James. Tiberius. Kirk." The faceless being repeated Jim's name, slowly pronouncing each one of the unfamiliar syllables. Something had changed; some minute detail that Jim was just noticing now. The voice no longer filled the room, nor was it heavy and electronic. It seemed almost muffled, as if coming from something hidden behind a plate. Realization flooded Jim's mind and he snapped his head up.

"Yes, that's my name." Jim spoke slowly, unsure of this new setting.

"Captain. _USS Enterprise_." The being continued.

"Yes," Kirk replied, fixing the blank, expressionless face with a even stare. "Who are you?"

"What happened to the shuttle?" The alien completely avoided Jim's question. His voice was just as formal as when Jim had been hanging from the wall, but now there was a hint of something that Jim was having trouble identifying; it wasn't fear, but it also wasn't happiness. It was more like the man had simple resigned himself to a disheartening fate.

Jim made a snap decision. There was something going on here behind the scenes and that shuttle had everything to do with it. With an even, steady voice Jim told him about the shuttle and finding George. He watched the alien opposite him, looking for any clues. The mask made things difficult, but he saw the being's body flinch at the mention of the bodies in the shuttle. Consciously he chose not to tell this stranger about his budding relationship with George, something held him in check. The faceless being sat quietly, unmoving, listening to Jim's story. When he finished with their arrival at the station and chance meeting with the alien itself, he fell silent, It knew the rest.

"Where is…George?" He faltered over the name, as if he had wanted to call the boy something else. Jim decided to try a gamble. It was just possible that this whole mess could be salvaged, that the Federation could gain a new friend instead of an enemy.

"He's on my ship. My ship's doctor was able to heal him and we've been taking care of him best we can." Jim paused, thinking to himself, adding, "I think he really wants to go home though." The two stayed silent, staring at each other. With the slightest possible movement, the interrogator jerked his head to the right. His helmet, a flat, shiny expanse of black, split down the middle, the pieces folding in on each other as they tucked away behind the man's neck. Staring back at him was an older version of George. He had the same messy dark hair, pale skin and pointed ears, though there were no spots on his forehead. Both the man and George had small, pointed noses and high, aristocratic cheeks. Staring at him were the same bright eyes, the vertical pupil unnerving Jim, almost as if his instinctual mind was warning him of a predator. George's eyes had been a shiny copper color; these were a cutting, hard gray, like the edge of a knife.

"My name is Tellar Istari," He spoke clearly, voice filling the room, "and I thank you Captain Kirk."

"Who are you?"

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews everyone, keep them coming! Until next time…


	11. Chapter 11

Title: New life and New Civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

"_My name is Tellar Istari," He spoke clearly, voice filling the room, "and I thank you Captain Kirk."_

"_Who are you?"_

It had taken Spock the better part of two hours (two hours, thirty-seven minutes to be exact) to finally reach a point in the station where he could contact the _Enterprise_. Beaming aboard the ship, he moved through the corridors at a rapid pace. Two captains getting kidnapped in six months was not a distinction Spock wished the _Enterprise_ to have; it could be said that, if he were human, he was pacing the corridors in worry, if he were human.

Assembling the ship's officers in the briefing room, Spock automatically moved to his customary position, the chair immediately to the right of the head, and stopped. His reflection stared up at him from the glossy, lacquered finish of the conference room's massive table. Standing, he moved to the head of the table and, for the second time, took temporary command of the ship. The room quickly filled with officers, with Mr. Scott filling out the table.

"Two hours and fifty-one minutes ago James T. Kirk, Captain of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_, was taken hostage by a previously unknown individual. Dr. McCoy, please note in the ship's log that as of now, fourteen hundred, thirty-seven hours, I am taking command of the ship." The room was silent.

"Noted." Bones slammed his PADD down on the table. "Now what the hell happened down there?" He barked.

"As you are the Chief Medical Officer of this ship, I will, per regulation, forward my Duty Action Report to you upon its completion; but to summarize: I had detected an unknown individual following us through the station; in an attempt to escape, the Captain led us into a series of tunnels beneath the station. Our efforts to return to the main station and the ship were interrupted by a group of Klingons, whereupon we were further ambushed by the aforementioned unknown individual. During the ensuing confrontation, the Captain was abducted by the unknown individual." Spock's speech grew quicker with each word.

"Well that's just wonderful, what do we do now?" McCoy shot back.

"At the conclusion of this briefing, I will personally contact Admiral Pike, and then we will attempt to ascertain the Captain's location." Spock replied.

"You said these Klingons ambushed you. What if this…thing was just a Klingon in some kind of armor?" Sulu spoke from the far end of the table.

"Unlikely, lieutenant; this unknown being snapped one Klingon's neck before decapitating another."

"Ah."

"Who else could it be then? It's not like this is an unexplored sector, the Neutral Zone runs straight through the bleedin' thing." Scotty spoke up from his place opposite the doctor.

"That, Mr. Scott," Spock raised a single eyebrow, "is what I endeavor to find out."

Jim privately reveled in the soft, supple body of his chair. It wasn't that the furniture on the _Enterprise_ was bad per se, but this was simply divine. Tellar had led him out of the interrogation room and through the corridors of the ship. Unlike the sleek, metallic walls and furniture of the interrogation room, the rest of the ship made even the smallest Federation patrol ships seem warm and inviting. The corridors were narrow and cramped with small doors lining each side, set back in shallow alcoves, many with the same small projector Jim had seen on the back of the shuttle. Piping and conduit ran throughout the ceiling and under the heavy metal grating of the decks. The narrow corridors were somewhat lower than Jim was accustomed to, more often than not he had to stoop down to avoid hitting his head against the heavy metal bulkheads; though Tellar seemed not to notice.

"This is my ship, the _Illarien's Shadow_," Tellar ran his hand along the wall as they walked; his voice almost reverent, "she may be small, but she gets the job done." He stopped in front of a wider set of double doors. They slid open quietly, revealing the small turbolift behind them. Tellar motioned Jim in, following behind him.

"Where are you from, exactly? This area's been completely charted." The turbolift began to move upwards.

"My people are from…elsewhere. We have been traversing the stars for many ages." Jim watched his new companion from the corner of his eye. He was half a head shorter than Jim, maybe more, but he held himself with a confident air Jim found oddly fascinating. His steely eyes flicked over in Jim's direction; the two locked gaze for a second before Jim shied away. "This shuttle you found was attempting to procure star charts from the station when we lost contact with her. I was at the station attempting to ascertain her fate when I…discovered your previous interaction with it. Then it simply became a matter of tracking you down." Tellar said, a small grin ghosted across his face.

"Yeah," Jim absently rubbed the back of his neck, "thanks for that." His fingers found the small welt from the hypodermic. "You could've skipped the needle."

"Yes, well, you're more valuable to me alive than dead." Tellar chuckled softly. A gentle chime rang in the turbolift and the door slid open. Here the corridor was just as narrow, though the alcoves and doors were further apart. Several other crewmen darted through the ship, each stopping and saluting Istari in turn, Tellar returning them in habitual fashion. He led them down the narrow hall to a non-descript door near the end, it was narrow enough for one man to pass through, the only markings on it looked like those Jim had seen on the shuttle. The door slid open silently, Tellar motioned Jim inside. It was a small office of sorts, sparsely decorated, much like the rest of the ship. It held a matching copy of the black desk Jim had first seen in the interrogation room, along with three of the leather wingchairs, two in front of the desk and one behind. The wall directly opposite him held the room's only viewport, stretching from floor to ceiling; it showed the stars streaking past the ship while it traveled at warp. The wall to his left held a door matching the one they had just come through with two small pedestals, one to each side, flanking the door, each holding an artifact of some kind. The door through which they had come wasn't flanked by pedestals as Jim had expected, but rather by two banners depicting some form of heraldry Jim assumed. The final wall, behind the desk and to Jim's right, was dominated by a large abstract painting in varying shades of gray, the detail coming from intricate patterns worked into the paint rather than changes in color. Kirk walked into the room far enough to allow Tellar access, who motioned to one of the chairs opposite the desk.

"Please, sit Captain. I hope this will be a more palatable venue for our discussion." Tellar grinned as he walked around the desk and settled himself in the chair. As soon as his body made contact with the chair, the surface of the desk lit up with a dozen different windows, some scrolling text, some pictures, one was a map. Blowing it up to occupy the whole surface, Tellar studied it for a minute before tapping on a holographic button labeled with the same jagged writing Jim had seen on the shuttle. "Istari to bridge," he said.

"Bridge, aye." Came the immediate reply.

"Lay in a new course, three-two-two mark one-seven-four, normal cruise."

"New course, three-two-two mark one-seven-four, normal cruise, aye."

"Istari out." Tellar released the button and, with a flick of his wrist, sent the map back to the upper corner of the desk surface. Looking up, he fixed Jim with a smile, "Well Captain, it appears you're to be our guest for a few hours still, would you care for a drink?"

The two men sat in the officer for several hours as Jim relayed the story of how the _Enterprise_ and her crew found the damaged shuttle and the events culminating in the present meeting. Jim found the Myrrshan growing on him; he was friendly and inviting, though slightly evasive with regards to Jim's questions regarding the Myrrshan, as well as intelligent and well spoken, if a bit stoic for Jim's taste. For his part, Tellar found James T. Kirk to be a gregarious, out-spoken breath of fresh air from the norms of Myrrshan society. Their discussion varied widely, from the mission at hand to anecdotes of past missions and family. Jim's mentioning of George's antics with the sofa, though well intended, brought a sobering halt to the verbal exchange.

"You said there was only the one survivor?" Tellar asked, his voice laced with a forlorn sorrow Jim was able to understand.

"Yes, only the younger boy. I'm so sorry for your loss." Jim said, his voice soft and regretful. "Is he your son or…?" He trailed off, unsure where to go. Tellar let out a small chuckle.

"No, he is not my son, though he is of my blood. The man you found is named Kellen Tokai, and the two boys are his sons, Nasser, the elder, and Marek, the younger; their mother was a woman named Anrys, she was my sister." Tellar leaned back in his chair, fixing Jim with an even stare.

"Will she be able to –" Jim started.

"She died six years ago." Tellar said succinctly. "Kellan was the lord of Lesser House Tokai and a System Lord as well; the loss of him and one of his heirs places both House Tokai and House Istari in a precarious situation, the Star Lord must be informed of these events." Tellar leaned forward over the desk and began to type as he spoke. "The lords of the Lesser Houses have sworn themselves as bannermen to the various Star Lords for millennia. House Tokai, having interbred with the Istaris had given them favored status among all the Lesser Houses sworn to the Istaris, and now their continued existence rests on the shoulders of a six year old boy." The feudalistic society of which Tellar spoke was completely alien to Jim, but it immediately fascinated him. Dozens of questions were floating around in his head, jockeying for position when a small tone chimed. Tellar turned his head; the same button he had pushed to contact the bridge and order the course change was now blinking red.

"Istari here." He said, pressing the switch.

"Bridge here, Sir; we are picking up the energy pattern of Unknown Target One-One-Seven." Jim looked at Tellar and raised a single eyebrow in silent question, a small smirk spreading across his face. Tellar momentarily released the switch.

"How else would you identify a ship belonging to a race you have yet to make first contact with?" He asked, his tone slightly defensive. Jim's smirk grew even wider and Tellar scowled at him before depressing the switch once more. "Redesignate Unknown Target One-One-Seven as 'Federation Starship, _Enterprise_ Type'. What is her heading?"

"She is not orbiting the station as expected, Sir. The _Enterprise_ has retraced her original heading at high speed; she appears to be returning to the point of attack on the shuttle." Jim's head snapped up.

"She's what?" He bellowed, refusing to believe the bridge officer.

"We'll be there momentarily, Istari out." Tellar released the switch and turned to face Jim. "I take this to be a bad situation?"

"Very bad," Jim replied, rubbing his hands together nervously, "the shuttle was attacked in the middle of the neutral zone between the Federation and Klingon Empire. If Starfleet okayed a foray into the Neutral Zone, they think you're either Klingon or Klingon-aligned."

"This could cause difficulties for your Federation?" Tellar locked gazes with Jim.

"This could start a damned war." Jim replied. Tellar rose and walked towards the second door in the room, Jim followed close behind. The room they walked into had to be the bridge; the room was circular and divided into two distinct tiers connected by a single central staircase. The lower tier was the smaller of the two, its ovoid deck punctured by two recessed duty stations; each held a single crewman surrounded by several of the holoscreens Kirk had seen throughout the ship. The upper tier was dominated by a central command chair, itself flanked by a smaller chair to either side, and a pair of raised duty stations similar to those recessed in the lower tier, and a ring of duty stations on the perimeter of the bridge.

Tellar moved quickly through the bridge and slammed his body into the command chair. With a wave of his right hand a small holoscreen appeared. He typed in a short command before waving his hand again, dismissing the screen. Looking up, he found Jim standing at the periphery of the bridge; with a slight nod Tellar motioned Jim to the seat on his left.

"Operations, what is the current heading of the _Enterprise_?" Tellar reclined slightly, turning to the Myrrshan on his right.

"The _Enterprise_ is holding her course, warp factor six." The ops officer replied. A large holoscreen activated at the front of the bridge, the _Enterprise_'s course and location displayed on a three-dimensional star field.

"She's crossed into the neutral zone." Jim stood and walked over to the viewer, careful not to trip down the stairs. "This," Jim spread his hands and traced the invisible line he knew all too well. "Is a five light-year wide strip of space that separates the Federation from the Klingon Empire; if either side were to cross it the other would have a means for a declaration of war." Jim turned to face Tellar, a real sense of panic growing in his mind.

"She seems to have dropped out of warp and is orbiting a fixed spot within the neutral zone." The ops officer continued. His fingers danced over the screen to his right, brow furrowed in confusion. "Sir, I'm picking up three unidentified ships closing on the _Enterprise_." He continued to check his instruments.

"Are they Federation vessels?" Tellar crossed his arms and stared at the screen.

"Negative, Sir. The energy patterns vary drastically from those of the _Enterprise_; the closest resemblance is to the decayed energy patterns found near the attack site."

"Klingons," Kirk hissed, "has the _Enterprise_ altered her course or speed?"

"Negative, the _Enterprise_ seems to be unable to detect the closing vessels." A screen to his left lit up in bright, flashing light. "I'm reading several rapid high energy discharges from the Klingon vessels; it could be weapons fire."

"Is the _Enterprise_ capable of withstanding an attack?" Tellar turned to Kirk.

"One on one the warbirds aren't much of a problem for her, but multiple targets in an ambush attack…" Kirk trailed off.

"Are these the vessels which attacked Kellen's shuttle?" Tellar turned to the ops station. The officer stared at his holoscreens, entering a series of commands.

"It seems likely, Sir." She replied.

"They are." Kirk interjected, "We found four Klingons on the shuttle."

"Helm, bring the ship about on an intercept course, maximum warp." Tellar's voice cut through the underlying chatter that had erupted on the bridge. Watching the stars on the main holoscreen, Jim saw the ship bank sharply to port before jumping to warp. "Time to intercept?" Tellar barked.

"Eight minutes, thirty-seven seconds." The First Officer replied.

"Not enough; push it!" Tellar shouted.

"The reactor is operating at one hundred percent capacity, Sir." The First replied. Tellar angrily flipped his wrist, calling up the small holoscreen attached to his command chair.

"Bridge to Engineering, go to one hundred-ten percent on the reactor." Tellar ordered.

"Engineering, aye;" a voice echoed through the commlink, "if we go to one hundred-ten percent on the reactor there's a change we could scramble the singularity."

"We have an unfavorable combat situation involving the only Scion of House Tokai!" Tellar's voice grew louder and faster with each word.

"One hundred-ten percent on the reactor, aye Sir." The engineer replied. Jim felt the soft, gentle hum of the ship he had noticed after first stepping foot on the ship increase in both pitch and intensity.

"New time to intercept four minutes thirteen seconds." The First Officer rattled off again. Jim watched as the bridge officers sent eager looks to one another. "At this rate the subfield dampeners cannot handle the energy output; we can be seen." The First Officer looked to Tellar expectantly. Tellar sat silently, arms crossed, staring at the main holoscreen in contemplation. "Sir!" The First Officer shouted in exasperation. Tellar rested his elbows on the arms of the command chair and interlaced his fingers in front of his face.

"Deactivate the subfield dampeners and raise shields, sound general quarters." The First Officer nodded, depressing a switch on his holoscreen. A loud klaxon rang throughout the ship followed closely by the First Officer's voice.

"General quarters, general quarters; all hands will report to battlestations. I repeat, all hands will report to battlestations." There was a scurry of activity as crewmen flooded onto the bridge, filling every available station and standing at the ready.

The ship was quiet, save for Jim's heart beating in his ears. The minutes seemed to pass like hours, Jim's pulse quickening with each passing second. The ops officer continued to call out tactical reports; the _Enterprise_ had been taken by surprise, but she was fighting back. Jim had no idea why she didn't just flee.

"Sir, we are in sensor range. The _Enterprise_ has suffered moderate damage, her shields are buckling."

"Helm, bring us in between the Klingons and the _Enterprise_, maximum aspect, I don't want that ship to take another hit; ready maneuver one-one-six delta after our initial pass." Tellar turned his head to the right. "Fire control, ready disruptors and a full torpedo spread."

"What are you doing?" Kirk turned to face Tellar.

"They have sinned against the Empire," Tellar said, never turning his gaze from the holoscreen; it now showed the _Enterprise_ and the Klingon ships, "the only way to purge this sin with fire." The helmsman cut in before Kirk could reply.

"Dropping out of warp in five…four…three…two…one…"

A/N: Finally released for the summer! Thanks everyone for sticking with me, I know it's been a while, but between classes and cranking out this chapter, which just didn't have a good breaking point in it, I got a bit behind. Now that summer's here though, things should be coming a bit quicker. As always, thanks for the reviews!


	12. Chapter 12

Title: New life and New Civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

"_They have sinned against the Empire," Tellar said, never turning his gaze from the holoscreen; it now showed the Enterprise and the Klingon ships, "the only way to purge this sin with fire." The helmsman cut in before Kirk could reply._

"_Dropping out of warp in five…four…three…two…one…"_

Spock was, rather ironically, reminded of an ancient human idiom: hindsight is twenty – twenty. It had truly seemed like a good at the time; the _Enterprise_ had narrowed its sensor detection range in an attempt to locate an energy decay trail from the unknown shuttle; this had the unfortunate side effect of blinding them to the approaching Klingon vessels. The crew became aware of the three battlecruisers when disruptor fire slammed into the ship. The _Enterprise _had been able to raise her shields in time for the second volley, but the damage had already been done. The crew fought valiantly, meeting the Klingons shot for shot, but the numbers were not in her favor. As the minutes ticked by, the situation grew more dire; round after round weakened her shields and sent her crew sprawling throughout the ship.The _Enterprise_ pitched violently as another round of disruptor fire slammed into her shields.

"Shields collapsing Captain, we can't take another hit like that!" Sulu shouted over the din of alarms and crew.

"Helm, bring the ship about, heading two-two-one mark zero-nine-two. Ready all phasers and fire on my command." Spock spoke quickly, and then activated his internal comm. "Mr. Scott, what is the status of our warp drive?"

"She's taken quite a wallop Captain," Scotty's voice was scratchy and nearly drowned out by the background noise. "The starboard nacelle's received a direct hit; we won't be going anywhere until I can get a look at her." Spock deactivated the comm link and turned to face the main viewer. One of the Klingon battlecruisers was closing rapidly and preparing to fire.

"Captain, they're opening fire!" Sulu shouted. Bolts of green energy erupted from the Klingon ship.

"Incoming vessel, heading one-eight-seven mark two-two-six!" Chekov shouted.

"On screen." The alien vessel screamed past the _Enterprise_; the disruptor fire slamming into her shields, scattering across them in a bright arc of lightening. The ship spun in a wide arc, giving the stunned crew of the _Enterprise_ their first real look. She was tall, much taller than she was long, with a large black sphere at her center. The sphere was held by a large, four-pronged cage tapering back to a long, rotating lattice structure. Its height came not from the size of the sphere itself, nor the cage that seemed to hold it in place, but rather two pairs of long, dagger-like fins extending dorsally and ventrally. From wide bases nearly encasing the sphere and its cage they swept up to fine, sharp points at their ends, cutting through space like a knife. Each fin was close to its mate, no more than a few meters apart, and, as the ship finished its long, swinging arc with the grace of a dancer, it bored down on the Klingon ships like a falcon in a dive; and fired.

Lances of electric blue energy roared out from between the fins of the alien vessel, slamming into the nearest Klingon ship. The battlecruiser pitched violently as fire rained down upon it. Round after round slammed into the stricken vessel, its shields buckled under the onslaught and disruptor fire crashed into the hull of the crippled ship, tearing it apart.

"Mr. Chekov, what is that vessel?" Spock said, not taking his eyes from the screen. The two remaining Klingon ships turned their attention from the crippled _Enterprise_ to this new interloper.

"Unknown Captain, she doesn't resemble any ship or design archetype in our database." Chekov replied, turning to face Spock. "Their weapons are unlike anything we've ever seen. They appear to be disruptors, but they use some form of gravimetric energy rather than nadions; they're literally tearing the Klingon ships apart."

"Mr. Scott, what is the status of our shields?" Spock activated his comm link.

"Give me five minutes Captain, I'm remodulating the emitters and they should be back on line, but I can't promise you full power." Scotty's voice crackled through the intercom.

The remaining two Klingon ships closed in on the alien vessel, the bridge crew watched the battle unfold with detached fascination. Round after round of disruptor fire slammed into the unknown vessel, arcing across its shields in bursts of fire and light. The interloper returned fire, clawing another battlecruiser apart with its disruptors. The last ship turned away from the new ship, attempting to flee the destruction, but for naught. A bright flash of light exploded from each of the horizontal claws holding the sphere; the two torpedoes raced through space and slamming into the fleeing battlecrusier's aft, destroying it in a massive explosion. The craft sailed through the debris of its vanquished foes, taking a long, leisurely route before coming to a dead stop before the _Enterprise_.

"Shields Mr. Sulu." Spock ordered, eyes fixed on the unknown threat in front of them.

"We have minimal shields Captain, twelve percent."

"Ready phasers and torpedoes, prepare to fire on my command."

"We're being hailed." Uhura's head snapped up from her battered comm station.

"On screen." Spock replied.

"Hi Spock!"

Jim looked up expectantly at the main holoscreen. Spock's stunned face took up most of the screen, though he could see Chekov and Sulu's equally startled expressions and he was almost positive he heard Uhura curse in the background.

"Captain…Captain Kirk."Spock stammered, clearly surprised. In the years to come this moment would go down as one of Jim's favorites; something few humans would ever see: a Vulcan lost for words.

"Yeah Spock, it's me." Jim's grin grew even wider.

"Captain, we have been attempting to ascertain your –" Spock started rambling before Jim could cut him off.

"Yes, yes, I know Spock. There's been a huge misunderstanding; get the _Enterprise_ out of the neutral zone and we'll talk."

"Captain, the _Enterprise_ is unable to achieve warp speed at this time. However, Mr. Scott assures me this is only temporary, all engineering crews are currently assigned to damage control."

"Captain, if I may?" Tellar interrupted, fixing Jim with a questioning look. The Captain simply nodded in reply. "The _Devos Illaria_ has taken minimal damage and has a full engineering compliment. If you would permit it, I would be willing to send several of my own men over to assist in getting the _Enterprise_ underway." Kirk turned from Tellar to face Spock. The two men seemed to have a kind of unspoken conversation using only raised eyebrows.

"Very well," Jim finally said aloud, "your assistance would be most appreciated." Jim turned from Tellar to face the holoviewer. "Mr. Spock, prepare for transport." Kirk ordered.

"Aye Captain, Spock out." The bridge of the _Enterprise_ disappeared, replaced by an image of the ship itself hanging in space.

"Tanna," Tellar activated his comm link. "I need you to assemble an engineering team in Transporter Room Two to beam over to the _Enterprise_. I need you to get her underway again; it isn't safe here." Tellar waited for an affirmative response and then stood, walking towards the back of the bridge, motioning Jim to follow him. "Commander, the bridge is yours. Do not let anything come between the _Illaria_ and that ship." He pointed at the projection of the _Enterprise_ that currently filled the main holoviewer.

"Aye sir." The Commander replied. Tellar and Jim left the bridge as he began to bark orders. The two men walked down the corridor, about half way down Tellar stopped and walked through a door on his left, Jim followed. The transporter room was small, most of it taken up by the large pad. Half a dozen Myrrshan engineers in black and gray jumpsuits were manhandling several large containers onto the pad. A woman, Jim assumed it was Tanna, stood atop the pad, barking orders at the rest of them. Soon enough, though apparently not for Tanna, the engineering crew had moved their equipment and now stood assembled on the pad.

"Ready to transport, Sir." Tanna said.

"We'll be directly behind you Tanna, do not leave that room until I arrive, understood?" Tellar replied, standing beside the console.

"Aye, Sir." She nodded curtly before turning towards the crewman manning the transporter controls. "Energize!" she barked. In a flash of blue light the crew and their equipment were gone. Waiting but a moment, Tellar stepped up onto the platform and motioned Jim to the open spot beside him. The two men exchanged a single look before standing still, waiting.

"Energize."

A/N: Here's another one for you folks, though it's a bit shorter, this seemed to be a natural stopping point. As always, comments are much appreciated.


	13. Chapter 13

Title: New life and New Civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

…_Tellar stepped up onto the platform and motioned Jim to the open spot beside him. The two men exchanged a single look before standing still, waiting._

"_Energize."_

Spock stood silently behind the safety glass separating the transporter pad from the control panel; hands clasped behind his back, waiting for the pad to energize. Dr. McCoy stood next to him, his foot tapping restlessly on the decking; the good doctor was taking a slightly different approach to their delay.

"Where the hell are they?" He groused to no one in particular, folding his arms across his chest. Next to him, looming over the transporter controls and looking for all the world like a worried father, stood Mr. Scott. He said nothing; rather he stood, bouncing impatiently on his heels. Spock watched the petty officer manning the transporter controls struggle against a smirk breaking across his face. The officer's console chirped, saving him from the losing battle.

"Incoming transport beam, Commander." The petty officer said, looking up from his controls.

"Energize." Spock ordered. The officer activated the pad, a dull hum filled the room and half a dozen individuals and several boxes appeared on the pad. All of them resembled the bodies currently locked in the ship's morgue, though some had lighter or darker skin and a variety of hair colors; at the front center of the cadre stood a rather annoyed looking woman.

"Chief Engineer Tanna and engineering repair crew reported as ordered, permission to come aboard?" She stood rigidly, hands clasped behind her back, locking eyes with Spock. Even on the transporter pad she was slightly shorter than he, but her attitude more than made up the difference.

"Permission granted, welcome aboard the _Enterprise_. This is my chief engineer, Commander Scott." Spock gestured towards Scotty.

"Thank you Commander," she turned to face her own people, who had not moved nor said a word. "Clear the pad." She bellowed, stepping down onto the deck and over towards Scotty. In short order the crew had the platform cleared. They stood silently to one side with their gear, filling the room with an uneasy silence. A high-pitched, throbbing hum soon filled the room again; three more bodies appeared on the platform. Spock recognized one of them easily; Kirk looked none the worse for wear, his wide grin countered by the dark bags under his eyes. Two other men stood on the pad with him. One was older, his hair a dark steel with lines crossing his face. He stood behind and to the right of the other, who, in Spock's eyes, bore a striking resemblance to the young boy now in the ship's care.

"Spock!" the Captain said brightly, stepping off the platform and over towards his officers, "Bones!"

"Jim, what the hell is wrong with you?" McCoy scolded, pulling out his medical tricorder and scanning the Captain. Kirk attempted to wave McCoy's scanner away, only to have his hands slapped back by the disgruntled doctor. After several tense moments Bones grunted in satisfaction and replaced his scanner. Jim turned to face the transporter pad.

"I'd like to present Commander Spock, my First Officer, and Dr. McCoy, ship's medical officer." The younger man nodded his head in greeting. "Spock, Bones, this is –"

"Commodore Tellar Istari." The younger man said, hands clasped behind his back and a small, welcoming smile fixed on his face, stepping off the platform. "This is Telak, my bondsman." He motioned to the older man who followed him, saying nothing. "I understand you are having some difficulties with your warp engines Commander?" Tellar sauntered across the deck, his grin growing with each word.

"Due to the abduction of her Captain, the _Enterprise_ was forced to re-enter the Neutral Zone in order to ascertain his whereabouts, leading to an unbalanced engagement with three Klingon cruisers and, ultimately, temporary damage to ship's systems, including warp drive." Spock locked eyes with Tellar. To an outside observer he would have seemed the same as always, but Jim had been around the Vulcan long enough to know when he was getting annoyed.

"Right," Kirk stepped in, hoping to defuse the situation, "Mr. Scott, will you take Commander Tanna and her crew down to engineering and fix my ship, I want to be out of the Neutral Zone five minutes ago."

"Aye Captain, if you'd all just follow me." Scotty replied. Tanna looked to Tellar who nodded once, before barking at her own crew and following the Scotsman below decks.

"Mr. Spock, report to the bridge and be on the lookout for more Klingons, inform me as soon as we're warp capable again." Spock nodded silently and left the transporter room. "Tellar, I –"

"With all due respect Captain, I must insist that we see the boy." Tellar said, his voice was quiet and resigned. Kirk turned to the doctor who sighed and nodded his head.

"Very well, if you'll just follow me."

The walk through the _Enterprise_ took far too long for Tellar; frankly, as far as he was concerned, the whole damned ship was bigger than it needed to be. The small group followed the doctor as he marched down the corridor and into the turbolift. The walk from the turbolift to Sickbay was mercifully short. The sterile white room was recovering from the chaos of the battle. Doctors and nurses ran to and fro, injured crewmen sat around the room; a number of the biobeds were occupied. Kirk scanned the scene and turned towards the doctor.

"The Kligons caught us with our pants down; we took a couple direct hits before the shields went up." The doctor answered the unasked question. "Sixty-seven casualties in all, thankfully none are fatal," McCoy paused at the foot of one of the biobeds. Its occupant, a younger crewman whose red duty shirt lay cut open on his chest, was badly burned, his face and torso barely recognizable. "Some aren't out of the woods yet."

"The boy's over there," he motioned to one of the beds at the far end of sickbay, "I had to sedate him, kid went nuts when our valiant leader," he fixed Jim with an annoyed look, "decided to get himself kidnapped. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have patients to see; I'll have Chapel bring him 'round." The doctor turned his back on the small group and grabbed the PADD hanging from the biobed. Following Chapel over to the secluded corner of Sickbay, Tellar frowned as they neared the bed. He looked so small and fragile in the large bed; his skin was pale and his face drawn in worry. Tellar stood at the foot of the bed, looming over the end and gripping the sides of the bed, staring intently at the child. Chapel looked up at Kirk, who nodded wordlessly. Taking a hypospray laying on the table next to the bed, she held it to his neck and injected the restorative.

Marek's eyes fluttered open as the medicine took effect, he swept his head from side to side, eyes unfocused, before locking on the familiar face at the foot of the bed staring back at him. The boy leapt across the bed, slamming into Tellar, he wrapped his arms and legs around Tellar's neck and waist in a near stranglehold, burying his face in Tellar's chest. Istari held him tightly; working a glove off, Tellar ran his naked hand through the boy's hair. Jim watched, silently, a smile spreading over his face. Tellar pressed his face into the boy's hair, exhaling deeply and whispering in a language Jim couldn't understand.

"Thank you, Captain." Tellar looked up from his nephew, still exhaling through the boy's hair and fixed Jim with somber, mourning eyes. "You risked everything to bring him back to me."

"It's the least I could do." Jim replied quietly. A warm, confusing feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach.

A/N: Here's another chapter for you. As always, comments are most appreciated.


	14. Chapter 14

Title: New life and New Civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

"_It's the least I could do." Jim replied quietly. A warm, confusing feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach._

It took the better part of four hours for Scotty and his engineers, bolstered by the Myrrshan engineers, to get the _Enterprise_ underway again. They had been some of the longest hours of Jim's life. The smaller Myrrshan frigate wound its way lazily around the _Enterprise_, twice it had suddenly flared its engines before fading into the darkness of space, only to reappear several minutes later… Merak (_not_ George, Jim had to keep reminding himself) was constantly glued to Tellar's side like a lamprey. If it bothered the Myrrshan captain, he didn't let it show. Tellar carried on throughout the ship, watching and directing his men, all the while toting a toddler along with him.

That had been three weeks ago.

The _Enterprise_ had managed to limp to the nearest starbase and complete repairs (thankfully, the damage had been more superficial than first thought) and was now back on her regular patrol. While he was glad to see life aboard his ship returning to some semblance of normalcy,

Today had been very much a usual day for the _Enterprise_ and her crew, their patrol taking them along the Neutral Zone as forces greater than them sent threats and promises from Earth to Qo'noS and back. The bridge of the _Enterprise_ was quiet and efficient. Tensions along the border were high; Jim read a sobering report of action between the _USS Ancona_ and two Klingon cruisers, it made everything a bit more real. The incoming hail from Starfleet Command was not, in itself, unusual; they had been getting regular communiqués from Earth ever since things had gone to hell, but rather:

"Admiral?" Jim stared at his viewscreen in confusion. He had been sitting silently in his ready room, slogging through the paperwork that always seemed to multiply when he wasn't looking. His ready room had been silent, only to be shattered by the incessant chime of his comm. display.

"Jesus Jim, you look like hell." Pike sat, as always, behind his desk, the bright sun shining on the San Francisco cityscape. Pike himself looked worn and drawn, the bags under his eyes were dark and, if Jim had to guess, it had been several days since he'd seen his bed.

"Same could be said for you, Sir." Jim smiled tiredly and tossed the PADD he was holding onto the side of the desk. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the monitor.

"Yes, well it's been a rough couple days around here. It's time to get down to brass tacks Jim; since your little adventure three weeks ago things around here have gotten a little…tense." Pike paused, carefully considering his last word. He stared pointedly at Jim, "At fifteen-thirty hours yesterday Starfleet Command received an audio only transmission originating, as far as we can tell, from somewhere in the Borderlands." Pike's voice was grave and stern.

Jim subconsciously straightened his posture and stared at the screen; Pike would not be contacting him unless it pertained to him, the _Enterprise_, and her crew. Somewhere deep in his chest he could feel an odd, fluttering sensation, a voice locked deep away, screaming for all its might to be heard. Jim did his best to ignore it.

"This transmission," Pike continued, "was a request to transport a Myrrshan ambassador to Earth in order to open formal talks with the Federation." He sighed heavily. Kirk leaned back in his chair, switching his gaze from the computer screen to the stars streaking past the viewport.

"Right."

"What are we, a god-damned space taxi?" McCoy sat across the briefing room table from Jim, arms crossed, his face dripping with annoyance. "Why us?"

"No idea," Kirk scanned the briefing room, observing the reactions of each of his senior officers. "But given everything that's happened in the past six months, and how handedly they dealt with the Klingons, Starfleet isn't about to say no."

"It would seem logical, Captain, that given our previous interaction with members of the Myrrshan, it is likely that they would place a greater trust in the _Enterprise_ and her crew over any other Federation vessel."

"That's just fantastic, but –" McCoy's objections were drowned out by Chekov's voice on the intercom.

"Captain, we have reached nav point alpha."

"Hold this position; we're on our way up, Kirk out." Jim stood and nodded to each of his senior officers.

"Here we go." McCoy scowled, following Kirk and crew out of the briefing room. The bridge was eerily quiet. The constant, low chatter that usually permeated the bridge was gone, only the pings and beeps of the bridge stations filled the void.

"Captain on the bridge." Chekov said, shattering the silence. "We are at station keeping, Sir"

"Excellent Mr. Chekov." Jim perched on his command chair, staring at the viewscreen. Empty space and twinkling stars stared back. "Where the hell are they?" The bridge crew stared at the blank monitor, shooting furtive glances to one another. No one knew what to expect. Jim was acutely aware of each second as it slowly passed by on the clock; he was incredibly nervous for reasons he couldn't, and didn't want, to understand. A loud tone from behind him made Jim jump. Turning in his chair to face the source of the noise, he found himself looking at Uhura, who staring intently at her display.

"Incoming transmission Captain, but I can't isolate the source." Jim turned to Spock, who nodded and began sifting through his own displays.

"Open the channel." Kirk ordered, turning back to face the viewer. A symbol he had seen both on the shuttle and the frigate he had been taken captive on flashed on the screen before fading.

"This is Captain Bental of the starship _Nataroi_." The viewer switched to a familiar, though larger, looking bridge. The man filling the screen was indeed Myrrshan, though his auburn colored hair and pale complexion was a far cry from Tellar's dark features.

"This is Captain James Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_, welcome to the Federation." Jim laid on his most charming smile. Bental turned his attention to someone away from the viewscreen for a moment before nodding briskly and refocusing on Kirk and the _Enterprise_.

"Thank you Captain, we are prepared to transport the ambassador's party at your convenience." Bental turned and barked an order; the proximity alarm on Chekov's station lit up.

"Very well, please stand by for transport in five earth minutes, Bental out." The screen went blank.

"Well he was lovely." McCoy muttered darkly, Sulu snorted and choked on his laughter. Chekov shot the pilot and amused glance then turned back to his displays.

"Vessel uncloaking at twenty thousand kilometers and closing." Chekov said, looking up from his control panel. The closing vessel popped up on the viewscreen; it looked like the Myrrshan frigate they had encountered just a few weeks ago, though larger and with an additional pair of horizontal fins. Jim sat silently watching the cruiser close in on the _Enterprise_. He had known that the chance of meeting Tellar's ship again was probably low, but that didn't stop him from being let down by the Myrrshan's absence. After a fashion he turned to Spock and nodded. Silently, the two men stood and walked to the door at the back of the bridge, making their way to the main transporter room. Two crewman sat at the control panel, one readying the transporter, the other watching the readouts.

"They're ready to beam aboard, Captain." The one watching the readouts looked up to Kirk expectantly; he simply nodded in return. Soon the telltale _whirr_ of the transporter echoed through the small room. Four beings began to materialize on the platform, and Jim watched them with passing interest. Two of them wore the same dark gray jumpsuit as the captain of the _Nataroi_, though each appeared to have a sidearm strapped to their leg. One was older, with steel hair, the other younger, and very familiar. A smile began to spread across Jim's face.

"Tellar!" He said brightly, walking towards the pad. The aforementioned Myrrshan smiled back, shaking Jim's proffered hand before pulling him into a tight embrace.

"James my friend, you didn't think you'd be rid of me so easily, did you?" he laughed. Jim's gut did a frightening lurch at the sound, the strong, hearty noise echoing into his bones.

"Never dreamed of it." Jim replied, smile fixed firmly on his face. "You remember my First Officer, Commander Spock." Jim turned and motioned towards the silent Vulcan, who nodded his head once in reply.

"Of course Commander, I promise not to try and steal the Captain this time around." Tellar grinned. Turning back to his men, the Myrrshan barked and order and they quickly cleared the pad. "As I hope your Admiralty has informed you, we shall be requiring berths for ten persons; two security officers, the ambassador, two of her ladies, her secretary, chaplain, steward, my bondsman, and, of course, myself." Tellar last few words were nearly drowned out by the _whirr_ of the activating transporter. Five more individuals appeared on the pad before quickly clearing it. The pad activated one final time. A single individual materialized on the pad. Tellar released Jim's shoulder and stepped towards the pad, holding his arm out.

"Captain, may I present Ambassador Nysia Istari," he sighed heavily, "my mother."

A/N: I'm back!


	15. Chapter 15

Title: New life and New Civilizations

Summary: Six months after the destruction of Vulcan, Captain Kirk and crew are given their first real mission aboard the _Enterprise_. When long-range sensors pick up a faint distress call in the Neutral Zone, no expects what they find…

Rating: T for language. There will be a pre-slash relationship built here, but there will be NO overt sex, I just don't do that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. All non-OC characters, sets, ships, etc. are property of Gene Rodenberry, J.J. Abrams, or someone who isn't me.

"_Captain, may I present Ambassador Nysia Istari," he sighed heavily, "my mother."_

As far as Jim was concerned, there was only one way to describe Nysia Istari: stunning. She was shorter than Tellar, but only slightly so, with the same raven hair and sharp, steely grey eyes. Strings of silver studded with various gems were interwoven with her sleek, black hair piled in braids that cascaded down her back. Her shoulders and upper body were bare, save for a heavy, finely worked silver collar wrapped around her neck and flaring out over the pale skin of her shoulders and nestled in the fold of her breasts. She wore a plain black dress that clung tightly to her chest and upper body before draping elegantly down her legs to the floor. An intricately woven and patterned shawl was wrapped loosely across her back and bared arms.

"Madam Ambassador," Jim smiled and bowed his head, "welcome aboard the _Enterprise_. I hope we can make your transit to Earth as comfortable as possible."

"Thank you, Captain." Her voice was a pleasing alto, buoyed by the strength of her tone. She took Tellar's proffered hand and stepped gracefully off the transporter pad. "Your hospitality has been highly lauded." Her eyes flickered to her son, whose cheeks tinged pink.

"We do aim to please ma'am." Jim smiled. He looked over Nysia's head and winked at Tellar, who turned even redder. Jim's grin widened as a scowl spread over Tellar's face. "We have arranged one of the diplomatic suites for your use, if you would follow me?" Jim motioned to the door, Nysia nodded her head in agreement, following Jim out the door; her grip fixed firmly on Tellar's arm while the rest of the Myrrshan contingent followed close behind. The group made its way down the hallway, exchanging idle conversation as they went.

Moving the Myrrshan delegation into the diplomatic suite was far easier than Jim had imagined. The ambassador's staff set about unloading their equipment in a quick and orderly fashion, with the ambassador herself directing most of the work. The evening culminated with an official state dinner where the _Enterprise_'s cooks, in Jim's humble opinion, proved their mettle. They dined on a variety of dishes from around the Federation finished with a sweet and savory Myrrshan dessert accompanied by a deep amber-colored wine that tasted of almonds and honey. The conversation had been pleasant, if boring and slightly stilted, all and all the night was a resounding success. It was with a full belly and slightly fuzzy head that Jim made his way back to his quarters.

Grabbing a glass of water from his replicator, Jim settled on the plush sofa in his living room and kicked off his boots, idly watching the stars streak past the main cabin window. The evening had definitely been a success. The thought of retiring for the night was just beginning to dance around in Jim's head when his door chimed. Sighing heavily, Jim stood and walked to the door, opening it. Opposite him stood Tellar, his cheeks still slightly pink, a bottle in one hand. Jim's sour disposition at being bothered disappeared instantly. He smiled brightly.

"Good evening Captain." He smiled brightly, "I've brought another gift for you, it's…personal." The pink tinge spread over his entire face with the last word.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Kirk grinned, "It's Jim. Please, come in." He stood to the side as Tellar stepped into the main room. He set the intricately carved and decorated bottle on the table next to the chess set. He stared at the multi-tiered board as Jim set two glasses on the table. He pulled the stopper from the bottle and poured two fingers' worth of the pale yellow liquid into each glass. He picked up both glasses and handed one to Tellar; their fingers touched, just for an instant, sending a jolt of raw electricity up Jim's arm.

Gently clinking the glasses together, Jim watched Tellar, who took a small, measured sip from the glass. He put the rim of the glass to his lips and inhaled; the aroma of savory spices and nuts filled his nose. He took a small sip, letting the viscous liquid coat his mouth and throat. The heat of the potent alcohol felt like a smoldering fire in the pit of his stomach. He nodded approvingly, Tellar smiled in return.

"It is called Pevlas, a kind of," he paused, considering his words, taking one of the chess pieces into his hand, rolling it between his fingers, "brandy, I think; made from the fruit of vlasia tree. It was native to the mountains of my clan's ancestral lands; we keep several trees in our ship, enough to make a few bottles every year."

"I'm honored, thank you." Jim settled in a chair flanking the chess set. He motioned for Tellar to take the seat next to him. "It's a human game of strategy called chess." Jim began moving the chessmen to their starting positions, explaining the role of each and the ultimate goal of the game. The two men talked back and forth, enjoying each other's company as the night grew late and the brandy disappeared. The pink tinge on Tellar's cheeks was permanent now, though Jim wasn't sure if it was from the brandy or the many times he caught Tellar staring. Jim stifled a yawn and glanced at the clock on the far wall; it was well past midnight. Tellar finished his glass and set it down on the table.

"Thank you, James. It has been an enjoyable evening, but I must retire for the night; it has been a very long day." Tellar stood and walked towards the door, Jim followed him.

"The pleasure was mine Tellar. I'll send a copy of the rules to the computer in your suite." Jim smiled and pointed towards the chess set.

"Excellent, I relish the opportunity to test you." Tellar grinned, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

They stood close to each other next to the door. Jim knew Tellar had to go, but, for some reason, he didn't want him to. The two men stood awkwardly, neither sure what to do. Finally, when the silence grew too uncomfortable, Tellar gently patted Jim's arm and left without a word. He could still feel the heat of the Myrrshan's hand on his arm.

Jim slept poorly that night. Dreams he hadn't had since his teenage years flooded back, though the faceless body it had always been was replaced by the pale, grinning face that now moved about his ship. Memories and feelings from his younger years bubbled to the surface of his mind in the darkness of his quarters. Staring at the ceiling, in the inky darkness of the night, he could recognize them, his classmate in middle school, Josh the track runner in high school, and possibly that Andorian from his Introductory Xenobiology class at the Academy (he _still_ wasn't completely sure about that one), and nameless faces all around. He felt his face flush and a stirring in his groin at the memories. Groaning, he stood and padded across his quarters to the bathroom, splashing water on his face. Jim glanced at the clock; it was far too early to be conscious, yet there wasn't enough time to try and fall back asleep. It was going to be a long day.

A/N: So I've returned! Sorry for the long absence, but between graduating college and my laptop bag, with all my story notes and laptop, being stolen, I've had to rework everything from scratch. Don't worry though, there should (hopefully…) be regular updates from now on!


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